It's About Power
by At A Venture
Summary: Sookie/Bill, Sookie/Eric, Sam, Amelia, Jason, etc. AU. Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid and telepath, meets an unusual man at Merlotte's.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Many of my stories are personal. Recently, I wrote "Training Wheels", a story inspired by an eerily similar event happening to me. If only I could have had a Viking vampire to help me home with my busted bike. Oh well. C'est la vie. That said, this story is extremely personal. It will probably be the most difficult thing I have ever written, and I include "Dead from the Waist Down" in that summary. On that note, I ask you, my readers, to bear with me. I expect this to be long. I expect it to be a personal journey. I want it to make you feel. _

_This story contains adult themes, including sadomasochism, "BDSM", and D/s. This is a story for mature readers. Because of its personal nature, I beg of you to be kind on the comments (If you can't say something nice or at least constructive, keep it to yourself. If you have to share, send me a PM.) I know that some writers of this material have gotten strange or inappropriate or downright mean reviews. Remember folks, we're pouring our hearts and minds out for your enjoyment. We're not getting paid for this. There are no publication contracts coming out of these stories. _

_On that note, I say, enjoy! _

_Oh yeah, this is AU. You'll probably figure that out pretty darn fast.  
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**It's About Power**

I met him at work. It was just another busy night at Merlotte's, the bar I've worked at for the last couple of years. I knew, immediately, that he was a different kind of man. Perhaps it was his pale skin, or the disarray of his dark brown hair. Maybe it was the gauntness of his face, or the unusual choice of a ratty Henley shirt and a pair of brown trousers. Maybe it was simply the fact that he reflected absolutely nothing in my mind. I'm a telepath, and I have been for the last twenty-five years of my life. I can read people's thoughts, and I tell you, they're usually a bit worrisome, or gross, or downright awful. This man, my customer, didn't have any of those thoughts. His brain was a black hole of nothing, and that was mighty intriguing. I sidled up to his table, and I just knew he was a different sort of man. He was mighty attractive too, with shining blue eyes and pale flesh and dark hair. He looked like a brooding sort of guy, and he instantly reminded me of the school-girl crush I'd always had for Angel, the character Buffy Summers loved. I smiled and leaned my hand on my hip.

"You're a vampire," I beamed at him, my voice a mix of awe and surprise. I hadn't even realized I was going to say it until I said it. Sometimes I just got the word vomit. Things just sorta…came up.

"Heh, yes," he nodded, perhaps a little shocked that I'd noticed, or that I'd admitted it out loud.

"What can I get you?"

"Do you have any of that synthetic blood?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, actually, no. We had some, but we never get any vampires around these parts, so it went bad. We threw it out. Isn't that awful? I mean, it just went bad last week, and then we get our first vampire in Bon Temps!"

"Well how about a glass of red wine then?" He nodded solemnly, and I went to fetch it. I hurried back, but I managed not to spill the wine on the floor or on myself. That was a first. I was pretty impressed.

"Can you drink wine?" I asked, all curious-like.

"No, but I can swirl it," he smiled. He had an unusually handsome smile. There was something both beautiful and deadly about it. I closed my eyes for a moment like I was snapping a picture of him.

"Well, next time you come in, I promise we'll have some True Blood."

"Excellent," he replied. He swirled the wine in the glass and sniffed it. I walked unsteadily away from his table and returned to the bar to find my boss, Sam, staring.

"He's a vampire!" I breathed. I was so blown away by the chance to meet a real live vampire that I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest and dance across the floor.

"Yes, I see that," Sam frowned. He looked almost territorial, like a dog or a shark or something.

"What are you getting so worked up about? I think it's great! It really puts Bon Temps on the map. I hear there's all kinds of vampire places in Shreveport."

"Maybe, but this is Bon Temps. We're a nice normal place, Sookie. We don't need vampires running around here, messing things up."

"Oh stop. I know you support the Vampire Rights Act!" I frowned at him.

"Only the principle of it, Sookie, not the practice."

"Sheesh," I shook my head. Whatever Sam thought, I was astounded by the vampire.

I went home that night thinking about him, about that strange smile, about the fangs that might caress the inside of his lips. I shivered as I curled up in bed. I thought back to an old episode of _Buffy_ because it was really the only reference I had for vampires. Angel had been all evil at one point, and he'd come into Buffy's room and watched her while she slept. He'd brushed her hair back from her face and talked about passion. Even when he was all evil and scary, he had been obsessed with her, maybe even in love with her. I imagined the vampire from the bar watching me while I slept, and as I imagined it, my eager hands dipped between my thighs.

I had never had sex, not in all twenty-five years of my life on Earth. When you can read the thoughts of your dates and you know all they're thinking about is getting you home so they can wiggle into your pants, it sorta turns you off. Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't giving myself a good time the old fashioned way. I imagined the vampire coming in through my window sill, his messy hair pushed over his high forehead, his piercing eyes staring at me from across the room. He'd come to me and push my arms up behind my head, pinning me to the bed. His knees would squirm between my thighs and push me apart. He'd suck on my neck, bite me, draw blood from me like water gushing from pinholes in the garden hose. His hips would thrust roughly against mine, and he'd hurt me.

And I'd love it.

He was there again the next night, and I made sure to bring in True Blood so we'd have some on hand. The bar was quieter on week nights, and I had few customers, so after I'd attended to them all, I sat down in the booth opposite our new resident. I tried to bounce my telepathic mind off of him, but I got nothing in return. He was completely devoid of response, and the sensation was incredible. Have you ever looked up at the stars on a summer night and pointed a flashlight? Well, I have, and you know what? The beam doesn't bounce back. It just goes on and on forever because there's nothing to reflect it. That's what the vampire was like. I was staring into the great beyond, and I'd keep staring forever. When you're a telepath stuck reading minds all the time, well, that's a pretty powerful thing.

"So what's your name?" I grinned. The vampire tilted his head to one side. He licked a trace of synthetic blood from his lips. His eyes squinted a little, like he'd been forced to eat spinach.

"Bill." He grunted.

"Bill?" I giggled involuntarily. "Vampire Bill? You're kidding, right?"

"No," he said. He gave me a tiny glimpse of fang, and I stopped giggling. I'd thought maybe something with more charm or old world grace, but not Bill. Didn't matter. Bill or not, the vampire was a thing of erotically charged beauty.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bill. I'm Sookie Stackhouse." I stuck out my hand to shake his, but he didn't respond. I stared at my outstretched arm awkwardly for a second, and then I put it back on my lap. I guess vampires don't shake hands. Maybe it's that whole mysterious thing.

"Tell me," Bill said. His voice was icy and cold, stony and dark. It gave me shivers. It was like I could feel it caressing me. "How did you know I was a vampire?"

"Well, Bon Temps is a pretty small town, so I know just about everybody. Also, I don't know, you just sort of have a vibe." Also, you don't reflect my thoughts and that makes you distinctly not human.

"A vibe…" Bill repeated me as though he were categorizing the words in his head like some kind of human (vampire) dictionary.

"Yeah, you know, like a gut feeling? I just sorta knew, I guess."

"You are an unusual woman, Sookie Stackhouse," Bill said.

"You don't know the half of it." I replied with a grin.

"Would you allow me to escort you home?" Bill asked. He sounded so perfect. He had those perfect Southern manners, and a perfect Southern accent to match. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sure, if you want to. I live pretty far out though. But if you want, you're welcome to come. I get off at two."

"I will take another True Blood." Bill nodded.

When my shift ended, Sam gave me a dirty look. I gave him an innocent smile and walked to my car to find Bill waiting for me. My car was the only one left in the lot, so I guessed he'd figured out that it belonged to me. I looked around. Okay, so how had the vampire gotten here in the first place? Could he fly? Did vampires fly? I had no idea, so I asked.

"So can you fly?"

"Um, no," Bill said.

"So how did you get to the bar?" I gestured to the empty parking lot.

"I walked." Bill said simply. He seemed to be a man of few words. That was okay by me. I talk enough for everybody.

"Well okay then!" I laughed. "Get on in."

"I will drive." Bill said promptly. Hm. I didn't know how I felt about letting someone else, especially someone I didn't know too well, drive my car. But okay, I liked the way he'd demanded to drive my car, or at least said he would. He didn't ask. I know that sounds really crazy! I'm an independent woman. I like my independence a lot and I don't like to give it up, but there was something in his tone that made me loathe saying no to him. I handed him the keys, and he unlocked the car and held open my door for me. He even shut it when I was all settled in. It was pretty classy, let me tell you.

I gave him directions to the house, and when we arrived, he got out, walked around the car lickety-split, and opened the door for me. I got out and he shut the door again. Oh Lordy, I wanted him to kiss me. Right there, shoved up against my car door. I couldn't explain it. I was so hot for this complete stranger. I only knew his first name! I didn't know anything else about him except the fact that he was a vampire and he liked O negative blood. That was all! And yet, I wanted his hands all over me, his fangs grazing my skin, his hips shoved up against mine. I hadn't felt this horny in a long time. I couldn't even remember when the last time had been! Everything about him was so rough and wild, but controlled under this thin skin. It was incredible.

"Do you work at the bar tomorrow evening?" Bill asked me after he had walked me to the door. He took my arm in his, like we were on parade at some Old Southern barbeque in _Gone with the Wind_.

"Nope, I'm off," I smiled.

"I will come and call on you." Bill said matter-of-factly. There he was again, doing that strange not-asking thing. He wasn't asking me on a date and he wasn't asking if he could come home. He was coming over. It was already happening. I didn't have a say. Something about the prospect of that made me giddy, even if at the same time there were little emergency warning lights going off in my head. I wanted him to come over, and moreover, I wanted him to be just like this when he did.

"Okay, I'll be here." I smiled.

"Goodnight Sookie," he grinned. Oh it was a gallant, Rhett Butler sort of grin. He was full of smarmy charm, dashing and debonair. Heck, if he didn't pin me to the wall soon, I was gonna have to jump his bones right here and now. He bowed his head and brought my hand to his lips. His mouth grazed my knuckles and an instant wave of gooseflesh swirled down my forearm. He chuckled, ever so lightly, and walked down the porch steps.

I practically bolted to my bedroom in the back of the house, barely taking time to tiptoe past my Gran's room. I shut the door and stripped off my clothes. I stopped only to open the window and let the early fall breeze in. I darted my head past the whispery curtains and peeked into the shadows. Was he still out there, watching me like Angel had watched Buffy? Could he come into my room? Angel couldn't come into Buffy's house without an invitation, but I didn't know how much of that was movie magic and how much of it was real, honest-to-goodness fact. I stripped out of my bar clothes and pulled on a skimpy pink nightie. I crawled under the light covers of my bed and let my thoughts drift to fantasies of Vampire Bill.

In my head, he was a rough lover. His strained and veiled demeanor was a cover for the animal contained within, an animal with a Rhett Butler-like charm. He was domineering and cold, but in an intoxicating and beautiful way. I wanted to obey his commands, and command me he did. I shut my eyes and imagined him pointing me to the floor. He unbuckled his belt and removed his pants. He demanded I open my mouth, and I did so. He placed the length of his shaft on my tongue. He instructed me in the method of his pleasure, and when I made a move to pleasure myself, he forbade it. It was an unusual fantasy, one I had never had before, and yet was inspired toward when I thought of him. Every dream of Bill, every desire for him clashed with my craving for dominance.

I woke up panting, my thighs and night gown damp. I rolled over and looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was just past six in the morning. The sky was just pinking with daybreak.


	2. Chapter 2

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 2_

He showed up promptly at seven o'clock, just as the sun disappeared behind the sagging cypress trees that dipped over the cemetery near the old family farmhouse. I was sitting on the porch swing in a swirly skirt and a cap-sleeved butter yellow tee shirt when he walked out from among the headstones and crossed the expanse of our front lawn. I heard his shoes shuffle on the gravel. I got to my feet and leaned against the wooden railing while I waited for him to saunter up to the house. He'd combed his hair and scrubbed his face. He looked cleaner now, but still had a woodsy scent, as though he slept under the earth. I admired his pressed tan trousers, his clean blue and white striped shirt with the two buttons opened at the collar. He was loose and casual, but still trimmed enough to have tucked his shirt tails neatly into the waist of his pants. His eyes stretched out like high beams and greeted me long before the rest of his body arrived.

"Good evening," he said in that cold voice that sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to curl up in front of the radiator when I heard him speak. It was still eighty degrees outside, a proper Louisiana September night. His hand darted out from where he had tucked it into his pants pocket. He took my hand from my side and lifted it to his lips. He kissed my skin. I felt a surge of lust that I could barely contain.

"Good evening, Bill," I breathed. It was all I could do not to squeak, to jump up and down, to push him down the stairs and onto the grass. I didn't care how we did it, as long as I could have him, as long as he would have me.

"Come, I'll take you for a walk in the woods." Bill said. He outstretched his elbow and I looped my arm around his. He tucked me against his side and we walked down the porch steps, across the dewy grass. I noticed as we walked that he hadn't asked. He hadn't suggested. He had made a decision, and we had done it. I loved that. I didn't feel my independence surge up and try to barrel me over. I didn't ache to tell him no. No part of me wanted to do anything else, and if it did, it just wasn't as important as what Bill wanted. I followed his lead as we skirted the edge of the cemetery. He took me down the winding path amongst the graves.

"Tell me about yourself, Sookie," he said. Oh Lordy, how I loved the way he said my name. He lingered on the o's, making an ooh sound with his tongue.

"Well, I live with my Gran up in the house there. I have a brother, Jason. He's older than me, works for the road crew. I've been up at Merlotte's for a few years now as a barmaid. I like it. It's not the best or most interesting work ever, but it makes me happy." I ruminated on what else I should reveal to him. If nothing else, he was a vampire, and that probably meant he was exposed to the unusual side of life. "Oh, and I'm a telepath. I can read people's thoughts."

"Indeed." He said succinctly. I didn't know what that meant, but something in his voice told me not to ask. It was the way in which he said it, the clipped sound of his voice, the sudden shutting of his mouth. "I knew you were unusual, Sookie."

"I guess we're just both good at reading vibes," I shrugged.

"Indeed." He said the same word again, and he said it in the same odd way. It jarred at my nerves, but only because I wanted so badly to know what he meant by it. Still, I didn't ask. Something in his demeanor told me not to ask.

"I live just across the cemetery," Bill said, regarding nothing in our conversation up to that point. He nodded to a great big old house across the cemetery. I'd seen it before, sure, but it had been quiet and boarded up for as long as I could remember. "My only living kin passed away recently and the deed passed back to me."

"Well I guess that's why you didn't mind driving me home the other night." I giggled.

"That was only one reason." He stopped and turned me to face him. My body swiveled in his hands like I was a model on a turning table. I found his eyes glinting in the darkness. He was a beautiful thing to behold, a dark beast penetrating the cemetery from the encroaching woods. His arm slid around my waist and pulled me suddenly close. If he had had breath, I would have felt it on my skin. If his heart were beating, it would have altered my internal rhythm. His other hand rose up into my hair and clutched the back of my head.

He kissed me. I'd been kissed before, but never like that. His kiss wasn't anxious or desperate. He wasn't awkward or unsure of himself. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew exactly how to get it. He wasn't asking. Bill took me. He took my lips and he took my tongue. He yanked me closer and he groaned into my mouth. He was so sure, so confident, that I felt like I was drinking in dominance, shrinking back from it, fearing it and craving it. I couldn't break away when I needed to breathe. I squirmed, gasping for air, but still he tugged at me. I strained backward, pushing at his immobile shoulders. Finally he released me. I could have dropped to my knees.

"Jesus Christ," I gasped. I lurched against the strangling arm that held my waist. He wasn't ready to let go of me, and although I had just tasted a sliver of fear, a moment of life without precious oxygen, I wasn't ready for him to let go of me either. I wanted to be in that place again, immediately if not sooner.

"I can smell lust on your skin, Sookie," Bill said, his voice deeper than I had yet heard it. He was an abyss. His voice was as bottomless as his mind, and I wanted to swim and swim until I found the end. He lifted me up, right off the ground, as though I were a feather. His jaw was set and his eyes stared past me at the dark old house across the cemetery.

His shoes were silent on the porch steps. The door creaked open and slammed shut. He set me down on an old dusty couch in front of a brick façade fireplace. I could have watched him bolt around the house, but instead I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he was pulling me to my feet. The fire was roaring, even though it was roasting outside. He had spread a fluffy fur rug on the floor in front of the hearth, and he left a few short candles burning on the mantle. There were no other lights in the room, so the flames played out on his skin. He was half in silhouette.

"I've never…" I started, but he placed a finger on my lips to shush me.

"Don't speak." He said gently but roughly, like fine grade sandpaper on a wooden floor.

His hands slid up under my tee shirt and he lifted it over my head. I raised my arms like a child undressed by her mother or father. It felt strange, but I went with it. As soon as the shirt was shed and discarded, his rough hands caressed my skin. He squeezed my waist and his long thumbs met over my belly button. I looked up at him, and his eyes met mine. I quickly darted my gaze away, and he chuckled at my shyness. The pit of his voice made my skin crawl.

I wanted to tell him I was nervous, even scared, but he had told me not to speak, and I wanted to please him. God, how I wanted to please him, to devote my body to him, to see pleasure and desire in his eyes. I wanted him inside of me and at the same time, I wanted to run screaming and never look back. I began to shiver in my nervousness, and that act seemed to excite him immensely. He bent his head to suck on my neck, to lick my clavicle, and he pressed my clenched fingers to his belt buckle. I had to will my hands to work, and even then it was a difficult and time-consuming process. His large hands roamed up under my skirt, squeezed my ass. I still struggled with the belt buckle. It seemed to take hours to loosen the metal clasp, and then I was confronted with the button. I tugged at it, gently and then forcefully. Bill was patient. He seemed to respond to my struggling. I could see his organ hardening, straining against his pants. I had never really seen a penis before. Nervousness shot through me like a lightning bolt.

Finally, I had the ensemble undone. I breathed, and I realized I'd been holding my breath for almost a minute. The air was a huge relief. Bill's hands rose up my back and touched my shoulders. He paused in the suckling of my breast, to where his mouth had migrated, to kiss my lips lightly. Then he pushed me to my knees. It was not a suggestive push. It was a forceful guiding, and I followed him. Every part of me wanted to reward his patience, to thank him for not bursting into laughter at my incompetence. I felt so ridiculous, and yet he had been so kind to me.

Do you remember the first time you saw a penis, especially at eye level? Was I really the only one intimidated by such a thing? I was fascinated by the way it seemed to rise up in front of my lips all on its own. Bill's fingers caressed my cheek. He traced my wet lips with his thumb. Though the prospect of putting his cock in my mouth scared me mightily, I was overcome with a burning desire to make him happy. Making him happy meant not refusing him. I opened my mouth timidly, and he slid inside.

I didn't know what to do. I've heard things sure, mostly from my friend Arlene, and sometimes from my friend Tara. That's it, though. I've never actually put my lips around a penis before. I gagged and wiggled backward on my knees. Bill's hand touched the back of my neck and held me in place. He thrust slowly in and out of my mouth. My jaw began to ache, but his noises of pleasure kept me from whining about my cramping muscles or my aching knees. I stretched up a hand to hold his hip, but he pushed my fingers away. I dropped them back into my lap. His moans increased in volume. I lifted my eyes to look at him, and his face was indescribable. The emotion, the raw desire, it was as plain as day on his taunt face. I began to rock back and forth, to enjoy myself because he was enjoying himself. He wrapped his fingers in my hair and held me still. My mouth filled with a flat-tasting liquid, vaguely reminiscent of an old blood smell. I gagged and sputtered.

"Swallow it," he said to me. He stroked my face and brushed his hands through my hair. I swallowed the mucus-like liquid with a great shudder. Bill dropped to his knees. He kissed my cheeks and lips. He brushed his cheek against mine and whispered against my ear. His face was rough with stubble.

"You did well, Sookie," he murmured. "For your first time."

"I'm glad I made you so happy," I replied, true delight in my voice. I wasn't faking it. I'd never wanted to see someone so pleased in my life, and now that I had, there was nothing I wanted more than to repeat it.


	3. Chapter 3

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 3_

Though the night was still young and I was still lit up in my desire, Bill helped me back into my clothes. He dressed himself and blew out the candles on the mantle. A part of me felt used, as though I had been ridden hard and put away wet, still wanting, still needy. He lifted me up again, swinging my body over his forearms as though I were a sack of air. We were on my doorstep in two seconds, and he set me down again. The breeze had cooled the damp sweat on my skin, but had not relieved the slippery mess between my thighs.

"Do you work tomorrow night, Sookie?" He asked me, as calmly and rationally as he had asked the night before. If there was any hope in his voice, I couldn't hear it.

"No, I work the day shift." I said thoughtfully.

"I will call on you tomorrow night then." He said. He took a long quiet look at my face, perhaps taking in my wide eyes. I wondered if he could smell my ache for release. In a flash, he pinned me against the side of the house. His knee shoved between my thighs and his fingers squirmed inside my damp white panties. I felt his cool fingers on my hot skin. I sucked in a breath.

"And Sookie," he growled against my ear. I shook, as though every nerve ending was sparking at the same moment. I was a flint stone, breathing fire. "Don't pleasure yourself tonight. Writhe in agony tonight. I will give you all that you desire tomorrow."

He drew back his hand, his knee, his pressure on my strained figure. Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea. I didn't think I could wait.

"I don't think I can wait that long," I whimpered. I felt like a victim of some sort of medieval torture. Was he trying to kill me?

"But you will," he said smoothly. Then he walked down the steps and disappeared into the night.

I dashed into the house, waved to Gran in the kitchen, and scrambled into my bedroom. I grabbed a towel and went to the bathroom. I sat uneasily on the lid of the toilet seat. Lord in Heaven, I was a mess. I reminded myself of a song I used to love, about the "Amazon runnin' between my thighs," as the songwriter had said. My skin was all pins and needles, and I wanted to throw my fingers between my swollen lips and rub one out.

But I didn't.

Instead, I turned on the shower, as cold as the water could get without turning me into a popsicle. I took a big gasp of air and jumped into the stream. Oh My GOD, it was cold. So so cold. It was freezing cold water, and I forgot all about my desire for a really great orgasm. I forgot about everything but how very cold the water was. I didn't get out until my teeth started chattering. I tugged the towel around me and hopped back to my bedroom. I shut the open window and crawled underneath my covers, still damp from the shower. I shivered for a solid minute before Gran knocked on the door.

"Do you want dinner, Sookie?" She called. "I made chicken!"

"Sure, Gran," I called back. "I'll be out in a minute."

I spent the night tossing and turning despite a full stomach and a long cold shower. Those cold shower things only work for so long, you know. I clenched my fists. I buried my hands under my pillow. Eventually I fell asleep and dreamed of all the things Bill would do to me the next night, all the things I would have to look forward to if I could just keep a lid on it until then. I woke up panting at quarter past three. The moon shone like a beacon across my quilt. I couldn't take it anymore. My aching fingers dove between my thighs. He couldn't possibly know, right? He wasn't standing outside, just waiting for me to betray him, to disregard him. I was anxious and excited, desperate for my own personal pleasure. Thinking about Bill pleasuring me only made the lust worse. I bit my lower lip. I whined. I clenched my hands into fists so that I couldn't actually accomplish anything. Was this what suffering was like? I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I'd never been so deprived, and there was nothing holding me back!

Nothing, that is, except Bill's dark voice.

I came to the rhythm of my own fingers, and when I had finished, I was panged by guilt.

I got out of bed in the morning and slumped toward the bathroom to take a regular, not ice cold shower. My shoulders were heavy, as though weighed down by rocks, and though I was hungry, I couldn't face the prospect of eating. I dressed in my work uniform and got in my car to go to work. The day was slow and awful, like a countdown to torture. No part of me considered lying to him, telling Bill that I'd been completely faithful to his "suggestion" of orgasm abstinence. I felt as badly as when I'd stolen a dollar out of Gran's purse so that I could buy ice cream from the neighborhood truck! Gran hadn't punished me because she'd said that my guilt was punishment enough. A little voice in my head told me that Vampire Bill wouldn't be so lenient.

I crouched in the house like a scared puppy until sunset. I didn't dress up to meet Bill, but put on some old holy clam diggers and a loose-fitting tee shirt. When he knocked on the door, I answered it glumly. I considered telling him I was sick, or that I had had a bad day at work. On both accounts, I wouldn't be strictly lying, but I certainly wouldn't be telling the truth either. I wanted to tell the truth. I wanted to see that sly grin on his face. I wanted him to pull me roughly into his arms and kiss me. He wouldn't as soon as I opened my big mouth.

"You look unwell, Sookie," Bill frowned when he saw me. "Invite me in."

"Huh?" I blinked, a little confused.

"I cannot come in and tend to you until you invite me in." He said simply. He sounded concerned about my welfare. Little did he know I was, at least physically, completely fine.

"I invite you in," I said quietly. Bill opened the screen door and let it shut behind him. He scooped me up in his arms and sat me down on the floral sofa in Gran's living room. We were alone in the house, the vampire and I. I wondered what he would do when he found out I'd been unable to obey his wishes.

But for now, Vampire Bill was completely clueless. As soon as we were seated, he pulled me into his arms. He was surprisingly gentle and nurturing. I hadn't considered him capable of such kindness. He tucked my head against his chest and lightly stroked my tangled hair. His free arm rubbed my thigh lightly, but not in a sexual way. He rocked ever so slightly against the cushions, and I closed my eyes to enjoy it.

"I couldn't do it," I whispered. The words flowed out of me like water breaking the dam.

"You couldn't do what, Sookie?" He asked me. His arms still cradled me.

"I tried a cold shower. I tried to hold back. I just couldn't. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think. I was going crazy." There were no good excuses though. I felt ridiculously guilty, as if I owed him my honesty and my faith.

"I can smell fear on you, Sookie." He frowned. He released me a little and he touched his hand beneath my chin to lift my face. I looked at him, and found in his eyes confusion and interest.

"Mostly, I feel guilty," I admitted. "I don't even know why. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"You're used to getting your way, Sookie. You'll come to understand that that is not what is important." He kissed me lightly and pulled me back down against his chest. My ear rested over his dead heart.

"You're not angry with me?" I asked like a child would ask. My voice was high and squeaking. My eyes burned with unshed tears.

"No, Sookie," he said gently. He pulled me closer and kissed the crown of my head. "I'm a little disappointed, but I'm not angry."

His disappointment tugged at my heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 4_

That was how it started. I felt the great weight of his disappointment, an emotion tinged with the kind of uncertainty that did not accompany anger. If Bill was angry with me, I could deal with that. I could beg his forgiveness. I could perform some act that would allow me to regain his favor. I could show him that I was apologetic. With disappointment, I couldn't find a way to fix things. I couldn't wiggle out of the way. There was nothing to wiggle away from. The disappointment sat on me like a stone, and it piled up, one disappointment on top of another. I tread carefully as we formed our relationship, one based on power and lack of it. Bill, of course, had the power. Sometimes, in relationships like these, amateur scholars will try to make you believe that the submissive partner has power. After all she (or he) does not have to bend to her dominant's will. She does not have to submit to him. It's her choice, isn't it?

To be fair, I could say I had a choice. I could be independent and miserable, or I could be subservient and for the most part happy. I chose the latter, as any reasonable person would. Was that a choice? I couldn't say for sure.

Standing back from it all, I can look back at our forming relationship and see where it has led me. I started out as a young, innocent woman, easily fascinated by this astounding two-hundred year old vampire. He was a breath-taking man, capable of turning me on and breaking me down. He could push me through a range of emotions in a single night, and I was powerless to stop him. I loved being powerless. It was an escape from my life, from the real world. I didn't have to listen to thoughts and I didn't have to make any decisions. I could just be. I was a plaything in the hands of something greater, something stronger.

I began to take pleasure in the simplest tasks, anything I could do to see that smile on his face, that desire in his eyes. I wanted and needed his approval, even if all I received from it was an acknowledgement, a nod or a short remark. That was enough for me, enough of an incentive to go beyond his expectations. Because his property was old and decrepit, I spent my days off fixing up the place. I started in the kitchen, replacing the cracked tiles that lined the sink, sweeping and mopping the floors, and cleaning the inside of the fridge. I kept the clean ice box stocked with True Blood, in a variety of "flavors", and I made sure there were ice cubes and phallic shaped vegetables, should he desire them (which he sometimes did!). It took me a little more than three days to finish the kitchen, and then I moved on to the living room.

I bought a book about re-upholstery, and I got Bill's approval on a couple of fabrics. I stripped the old Victorian sofas down and sanded the wooden parts. Then I applied paint and varnish to get them looking all spiffy again. I recovered the exposed fabric and made sure everything was beautiful before Bill awakened that night. He made love to me on the brand new sofa, covering the fresh new fabric with a towel to keep it clean.

I called a contractor, with Bill's approval, to make the bathroom functional, and then I decided to rework the bedroom we sometimes used for our play. I took one of Gran's old quilts from our attic and placed it over a set of new sheets in an attractive blue paisley print. I varnished the bedposts and the frame so it would look all pretty again, and I took down the curtains so they could be washed and ironed. I vacuumed the braided rug, and I even brought up a chest for Bill's various accoutrements.

"It looks beautiful," Bill murmured against my ear when I had finally finished the reworking of his home. It had taken weeks to complete, what with my schedule at the bar. I had made all sorts of silly mistakes, and stuck my hand in wet paint or drying varnish more than once. I was a terrible klutz with the housework, but it all got done, and that was the important part. Bill's pleasure was noticeable, not only in the way we shared our physical passion that first night in the new bed. He was also tender, taking little blood from me to sate his hunger. When he had had his lust fulfilled, he gathered me up and took me to the bathroom. I had had it decorated with a deep and wide claw-foot tub, and creamy white tile. Bill set me down in the basin and filled it up with steaming hot water and bubbles. He climbed in behind me and washed my hair. He kissed my neck and rubbed my shoulders.

"It seems so odd," I said quietly as he rubbed my back with a sponge.

"What does, Sookie?" He asked, his mouth near my ear.

"I feel like I should be bathing you, not having you bathe me."

"Sookie," he rumbled. "It pleases me to please you. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes, it is. I guess I just didn't think about it that way." I shrugged. I still felt distinctly odd, though. It was almost as though I was uncomfortable with his doting on me. I felt awkward, like I should be doing something, busying myself.

"Relax, Sookie," he said. "If you prefer, I will pleasure you another way." His hand reached around me and parted my thighs. I surged with excitement even though I was exhausted from our previous engagement. Then I realized what he had said. I didn't prefer anything. I wanted him to prefer things and I wanted to sit back and accept those preferences. I looked over my shoulder at Bill, and he kissed me.

"I want you," he muttered roughly. His fingers reached up into me, three of them stretching my insides. I squirmed into his chest and reached for his hand involuntarily. He grabbed me with his free hand and pulled my arms away.

"I'm yours," I groaned, thrusting my hips into his hand. I could feel his cock swell behind me, and I squirmed against it to assist in his stimulation. He forced yet another finger inside me. Most of his hand was shooting in and out of me, and I threw my head back over his shoulder. I was a mix of pain and pleasure. My skin was on fire, and my blood pumped through me faster and faster. Bill's fangs grazed my neck for a second, and then pierced the jugular. Blood gushed into his mouth, and I felt like the stopper had come loose from the drain. I was being sucked down, hard and fast. My mouth made movements, but my voice took forever to follow them.

"May I come?" I begged him. I pleaded with him. I knew he had the right to say no to me, and I loved that. Still, I wanted to experience an orgasm, to let it fill me and break me and release me. Bill licked at the wounds in my neck. I could feel his penis softening against my back. He had released in the water.

"Maybe," he said as an after thought. "Maybe later."

One afternoon, following work, I came to the house to prepare for Bill's waking. I bought fresh blood for the fridge, and I unloaded it and placed it on the shelf. I poured myself a glass of sun tea from the small pitcher I'd left in the icebox. I leaned against the kitchen counter and drank it, imagining Bill in his hidey hole somewhere in the bowels of the house. I wondered vaguely what it was like to sleep under the floorboards. I loved the woodsy smell of him, the lingering reminder of his home in the earth. When I finished my tea, I rinsed out the glass and left it beside the sink to dry. I went upstairs to rest on Bill's bed. I pulled back the quilt and crawled beneath it. I shut my eyes for just a moment, but when I opened them again, it was nearly dark.

Bill and I had a system. Call it a ritual if you will. I loved the expectation of it, the sameness. Like the rest of my relationship with Bill, our simple ritual was an escape route from the real world of commitments and responsibilities. When I was home at twilight, I would kneel in front of the hearth, my eyes closed, my hands open and my palms exposed. Bill would find me there, ready and waiting for him, and we would do whatever it was he had planned for the night.

I scrambled into my place, but Bill was already awake. He was grouchy. I could just feel it on him, like the way the world feels right before a rain storm. He didn't regard me, but walked past me into the kitchen to get a True Blood from the fridge.

"Sookie," he growled in an angry sort of way. "There's no O Negative."

"There isn't?" I asked, surprised. I got up from my spot by the hearth and went to check the fridge. I'd gotten O positive at the store by mistake. My heart took a dive into my gut.

"What? You didn't believe me? You had to check for yourself?" He almost spat at me. He reached into the cabinet for a glass and he caught sight of my tea glass, sitting clean and dry on the counter.

"What's this? You can't put away your dishes now?" Grouchiness radiated from him in toxic waves. I quickly grabbed the glass and opened the cabinet. "Don't bother with it now."

"But…" I said. He caught me in a sharp look. I swallowed hard. This wasn't the time for arguments, however true they might be.

"Upstairs," he scowled at me. I hardly wanted to share his bed tonight, but I loped up the stairs anyway. Bill stopped in the bedroom doorframe. He grabbed me roughly by the shoulder and threw me into the room ahead of him.

"What the hell is this Sookie? Were you born in a barn?" He threw his arm at the unmade bed, the quilt bunched up from my nap and subsequent rising.

"I…" I wanted to apologize, but my throat closed up.

"Get out!" He yelled at me. He took my arm and almost tossed me back down the stairs. I stumbled and held onto the railing. "Maybe some time away will teach you some respect for my property." He slammed the bedroom door.

My eyes flooded with tears as I lurched down the staircase and out the front door. I stood on the porch for several minutes, hoping his dead heart would grant me forgiveness, but it didn't. I nearly fell down the porch steps and wandered in a daze across his lawn, through the cemetery, back to the farmhouse. I sat on my own porch steps and wept, deeply saddened by my vampire's disappointment. I berated myself for falling asleep under the quilt, for forgetting about the glass by the sink, for stocking the fridge with the wrong blood. I cried until my tears ran dry and my stomach ached.

He ignored me for three days. He did not call and he did not visit. He did not come to the bar when I worked at night. He did not linger on my lawn while he waited for me to come home. I stood as close as I dared, on the edge of his side of the cemetery, but he never came out. They were the longest three days of my life, and I was in a deep bog of depression when he finally knocked upon my door.

"Sookie, honey," Gran called from the front of the house. "Bill is here to see you."

"Bill?" I whimpered. I streaked out to the front door to receive him, forgetting to brush my hair or wipe my face or check the state of my clothes. I staggered onto the front porch and tore down the steps to meet Bill upon the lawn. He looked at me, a pathetic shadow of myself.

"I'm sorry," I wept, falling on my knees in front of him. My shoulders shook and I bowed my head. Oh God, I begged for his forgiveness. I couldn't live with the pain of his disappointment. The rocks on my shoulders were holding me down, and I could barely stand up anymore.

"I forgive you, Sookie." He touched my head. "Don't disappoint me again. I don't like being upset with you."

"I won't! Not ever again!" I shook my head violently, and I made a solemn vow to never go against his wishes.

Our relationship was about power. He had it, and I didn't. Whether I chose that path or not, it was what lay ahead of me. My misery was replaced with joy, and when he took my hand and allowed me to rise, I felt a surge of pure love.


	5. Chapter 5

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 5_

I was more cautious after that; more careful about the actions I took. When I cleaned, I made sure to touch every nook and cranny so that he could not find fault in my errors. I struggled not to let the wind fall out of my sails when I was too tired or too cranky to continue. I'm only human, but I never let that simple fact become an excuse. I wasn't perfect, but I could be if I worked hard enough. I was devoted, but I had to show that on the outside. Bill couldn't read my thoughts. He didn't seem to see it in my eyes. He didn't notice it in the way I worshipped him, the way I kneeled by his side for hours on end while he worked on his computer or read a dusty old book from the library shelf. I spent most of my nights existing in the background. I enjoyed the way he used me as a lampshade or an ottoman, as a drink fetcher or a fountain of blood. I wasn't a person to him, and that made me feel more… more something.

When he wanted me, he called to me. I came running, every time. I was never too busy to be of use to him. I was only apart from him when I had shifts at the bar, and I started taking on more dreaded day shifts so that I could spend my nights near him. Most of my nights were spent in silence, waiting for him to need me. He had only to speak and I was up and ready, an engine running ready and hot. That simple smile, that slight incline of his head, it was all I needed. The acknowledgement of my presence replaced my need for sexual fulfillment. His pleasure was more important. His pleasure was the only important thing.

I was in a constant state of anxiety, aching to stay on his good side, to keep him happy. I dreaded that silent treatment more than I dreaded the possibility of anger. His potential disappointment hovered at my feet like the coming plague. I would die if I had to experience that again. My need to please took over my better judgment, and I began agreeing to do things I had no desire to do.

One night, after almost a week of floating in the background without acknowledgement of any kind, Bill turned to me. His brows curved up at the ends and sloped down toward the bridge of his nose. He looked positively evil, devious, and cruel. I swelled with desire, knowing I would finally get the chance to feel his arms embrace me. He stuck out his hand and lifted me to my feet. My knees cracked and groaned, and I limped as I followed him up the stairs to the bedroom. The room was as clean as I had last left it. There were neat hospital corners on the bed, and I'd dusted the curtains and swept the floor. Bill's insistent lips fell upon my neck. He licked my skin, leaving sporadic kisses. I panted as I became more excited. It had been so long since he'd touched me, so long since he'd found physical pleasure in me. I was a rag doll in his brutal hands, moving where he moved me.

He removed the negligee I'd worn for him, a black lacy gown that fell to the middle of my thighs. I was bare underneath, and he made a growl of approval. My face flushed hot. I knew my cheeks were pink, my lips dark and red, my pupils wide as lust gathered under my skin.

"Sookie," he rumbled into my breast as his mouth explored the curves of my trembling body. I loved the way he said my name, the way he curled the O's over his tongue.

"Bill," I whispered, my breath escaping from me like the air let out of a tire.

"I want to hurt you," he grunted. He dug his hand into my backside, squeezing the flesh so firmly that I let out a surprised squeak of pain. He grinned deviously and smacked his hand against the spot he'd squeezed.

"I only want to please you," I murmured nervously. I was, frankly, terrified. What did he want to do to me? Throw me over the bed and spank me on the behind? That seemed strange and worrisome. Would he get off on that? Would I? It didn't really matter if I did or not, and I wasn't so concerned with it. Fear crept up over my shoulders and sat on me.

Bill picked me up off the floor. He kissed my lips, tenderly and lovingly, as though he weren't preparing to do something painful to my body. He stroked my cheek and hair. His fingers pinched and squeezed one of my nipples. He tossed me back on the bed, on top of the cool quilt. I sank into the mattress, closed my eyes, and let out a breath of relief. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I would be okay. Hell, maybe I'd even enjoy myself. I couldn't suppress the nervousness that tensed up my limbs.

Bill's cold fingers traced the outline of my torso. His have dove underneath my hip, and deftly, he flipped me over onto my stomach. My nose and chin bumped into one of the pillows. I blinked, more surprised than hurt. He grasped my hips and yanked me backward as he stood at the end of the bed. I balanced on my knees, my chest pushed heavily against the quilt, my arms yanked down along my sides. I rested my cheek uncomfortably on the bed, but I didn't dare squirm for a more comfortable position.

"You look beautiful, Sookie," he moaned. I blushed. I could taste my own embarrassment, despite his reflections on my apparent attractiveness. I felt exposed to the world, like all of Bon Temps was watching me. It was a strange sensation, both erotic and deeply humiliating. The two feelings were polarized. A barrier existed between them, like opposing magnets. I was at a loss.

"I'm scared, Bill," I whimpered. I wanted to ask him to stop, to just hold me, to make me feel safe. I didn't. I don't know why, but I felt like I couldn't ask. I couldn't tell him what to do. I couldn't disappoint him. He wanted to _hurt _me and I wanted to let him. I wanted him to be happy.

"You'll like it, Sookie. Just trust me." His voice was as smooth as a frozen lake. I wanted to trust him, to believe that I would enjoy myself. I dampened down my fears. I squeezed and relaxed my fingers. I gasped in air like a dying fish on the hot pavement.

Rattan doesn't make the cracking sound one expects. It's more like a soft _woosh_ as the air is displaced and redistributed. I wasn't expecting the feeling. I didn't even know what he intended to do until it was done. There was no warning and no warm-up. The cane came down as suddenly as a lightning bolt smacking an open field. I let out a shocked yelp, a sound that burst from my mouth and filled the tight space around my buried head. I wanted to sit up, to hold my wounded body, to nurse my stunted pride, but I didn't.

I just stayed still. And he did it again.

I had tears in my eyes after the first couple strikes. I wanted to scream out, to tell him no, to beg him for mercy. I wanted to crawl away, to jump out of the window and claw my way up to the roof if it meant I could just escape. But I stayed because I didn't want to disappoint him. There was something in the eagerness of his approach, the way he smoothed his fingers over the burning welts on my skin. He was enjoying himself, and I knew it. In my head, I pictured him bouncing up and down on one of those bouncy houses that kids enjoy. Every time the cane came down, he made a great leap into the air. He landed and bounced again, skyward, high as a kite. I longed to see the smile on his face that I knew was there.

The cane fell back down again. There's a different sensation when your skin splits. It isn't the same feeling as a welt. When you welt, you skin accepts the implement and, when it's released, your flesh springboards back up. There's a bruise, swelling, a great splash of red, but you're okay. This time, the skin didn't bounce back. It split open right down along the line of the strike. I screamed. I couldn't hold back the urge, and I scrambled up the bed for safety. It was a fight or flight moment, a gut reaction, as natural as breathing when you're knocked unconscious. I wrapped my arms around the bedpost and let the tears fall like rain.

"Please," I whimpered. I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice. My tongue shivered. My lips were dry and chapped. I could barely see through my dripping mascara. "Please stop."

It was the first time I had stood up for myself, but I didn't see it that way. I felt like I had betrayed him, that I had put my own interests first. I wasn't important. My needs and desires were his to control. I wanted it that way, didn't I? I wanted to feel like this. I couldn't lift my head to look into his eyes, to see the disgust in his features. The mattress squeaked when Bill knelt down upon it. He pulled me down from my perch and tucked me into his chest. I wept freely, leaving black streaks on his pale skin. His fingers rose up into my hair and pulled lightly through the strands. Bill never spoke. He never said a word, and yet I felt comforted, like he cared that I was unwell.

I shuddered in silence for several minutes, long after the pain receded and the blood on my backside crusted over. I was still whimpering when Bill pressed his lips hungrily against my neck. He kissed me roughly, moving up along my throat to my jaw. He traced my mouth with the pad of his thumb, and pushed his finger over my tongue. I lifted my eyes to look at him, and saw that he was alive with passion. Had it been building all this time? Or did he just enjoy my crying? His hand cupped my breast and he shoved me backward across the pillows. He was inside of me in seconds, a piston. His hips smacked against mine, and my sore bottom wobbled painfully underneath us. He came inside me, only minutes later. He didn't ask me if I was ready, and even if he had, I wasn't. For the first time, I took no pleasure from our copulation. I was only a means to an end.

"Feel better?" He asked me when he'd rolled off. He curled up against my back. His hand traced the welts on my rump.

"Yes," I replied flatly. I lied. I lied to please him. He nuzzled my hair with his stubbly chin. His flaccid penis pressed between my bruised buttocks. I fell asleep in his arms, and hoped the next day would be better.

I could come to enjoy this.


	6. Chapter 6

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 6_

I would have to enjoy it. When Bill wasn't ignoring me or treating me like a thing, he was using me as a toy for his sexual adventures. I won't admit that I hated all of them. Sometimes I found the thrill of the activity appealing, even enjoyable. The kick of the endorphin rush was a surprising reaction to a variety of otherwise painful stimuli. Sometimes my sexual excitement would be foremost in his mind, and he would do everything in his power to bring me to the point of climax. I would hover on the brink for hours, and sometimes he would even let me step over the wall. The orgasms were few, like super-fatty chocolate ice cream with sprinkles and cheesecake and whipped cream. I'd fall back into his arms as though I were drifting on a cloud of ecstasy. This was what drug comas felt like, I was sure of it. I'd heard about V and all that it did to humans. Well, I didn't need to suck Bill's blood to experience the utmost incredible pleasure. I just needed one opportunity to experience a really great orgasm.

Those moments were few and far between, and that made me value them. Most of the time, I hovered in a state of abject need to please. I worried about what I might have done wrong, what I might have forgotten to do, what could set him off. More than that, though, I worried about what he had in mind for me on the nights that he wanted to spend in the bedroom. I was a virgin when I met Bill, inexperienced and unprepared. He was always coming up with something new, something I knew very little about. I can pick brains, and I'm certainly not a dummy when it comes to sex. Heck, every time I was with Bill, I learned some completely new way in which to please a man. If I'm ever with anyone else, I know those skills will come in handy. I bet you I know things you don't know. Still, some fantasies are meant to remain fantasies.

On a quiet Thursday, several months into our relationship, Bill carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. His tenderness was unbelievable, and I hoped that I was in for one of his special treats, the nights he devoted to me. I always started out on those nights feeling awkward. I wasn't supposed to be in the driver's seat. I didn't like telling him what to do, where to go, how to please me. My pleasure wasn't important. Worst of all, I hated having his tongue pushed between my thighs. I couldn't stand the thought of it. I felt like I was in control, and that scared me more than anything in the world. I didn't want to be in control. Bill was holding the reins. I was the thing under the saddle.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights. Bill had something else in mind. The devious smile on his face told me he was planning something, that perhaps he'd been planning it for a long time. I didn't know what he had been waiting for. He had never showed any concern for my readiness. I was always, at least outwardly, willing. If he ever realized I wasn't actually in favor of his treatment, he didn't show it.

"Sookie," he said to me. He kissed my mouth, my chin, my neck. He ripped my nightgown from me like it was made of tissue paper.

"Bill," I murmured. His fangs grazed my shoulder. His fingers dove between my thighs.

"We're going to do something new tonight," he growled. "It will bring me great pleasure."

Bill was a smart man. He had only to say that whatever we were about to do would excite him, and I was moldable putty in his hands. He scooped me up and laid me out on my grandmother's quilt. It had been cold for months now, and the radiator in the room kept the blanket surprisingly warm. I nestled into it, but I wasn't comfortable. Bill knelt on the bed between my thighs. He stroked my lips, pressing his fingers between them, pinching me so I would squeak with delight. My knees quivered. He unbuttoned and removed his pants, and I could see his cock bouncing up between his thighs. His was the only penis I'd ever touched, the only one I'd ever licked or kissed, sucked on or been slapped across the face by. Part of me loved it, and part of me hated it. I would hate it more after tonight. I would love it less.

Vampire Bill was hard and ready and unwilling to wait. He pulled my hips up off the bed and thrust into me. I moaned aloud, peeking up briefly at his face to see the wild fervor of lust in his eyes. When I was satisfied that he was happy, I shut my eyes and turned my head away. I rolled on the wave of his hips, trying to extract my own pleasure from them. I focused on him. I listened to his voice. His hands were fierce on my thighs as he held me up to him. My skull bounced and rolled on the pillow tucked beneath my head. It would have been wonderful if it was just this, but I knew it wouldn't be. He had told me we were going to do something new. This wasn't new.

As if he'd been reading my mind, Bill wrapped his hands tightly around me and flipped me over, still pinned to his cock, still riding the roll of his body. I let out a yelp of surprise, though he'd done similar moves in the past. Try getting used to someone with superhuman strength flipping you over when you least expect it. See how you like it. I buried my head in the pillows, my face turned in one direction so that I could breathe. From here, I could see into the bathroom, and my silhouette reflected in the mirror. I turned my head away, and I shut my eyes.

Cold, wet saliva dropped down onto my skin, and Bill's fingers pressed between my buttocks. He rubbed the sensitive and much smaller exit hole of my anus and I froze. No movement. Not a single solitary heartbeat. I squirmed away. I tried to make a run for it. I was absolutely not going to do _that. _Bill's hand wrapped firmly around my ankle and he yanked me back, forcing his cock deeper into me. He continued to rub my flesh. I writhed.

"No," I said. I tried to be firm, but my voice quivered like a shaking rattlesnake tail.

"Did I ask?" he grunted. One of his fingers pushed inside me. I yelped, more from fear and worry than actual pain. If I was really in pain, I couldn't tell. The whole experience felt inhuman. I needed to be away. His dick still pistoned in and out of me and I barely noticed it.

"I don't want to. I can't… I can't do this."

"Sookie," he whispered in my ear. He leaned over me, his chest against my spine. I instantly curled into him. Where I was warm, he was cold. "We'll just try it. I know you'll like it if you just give it a chance. Just relax, baby. If, after we try it, you don't like it, I'll stop. Just tell me and I'll stop."

"I…" I shut my eyes. He felt so strong and safe against my skin. He was still inside me, his penis, his finger. I tried to numb the fear of it. What harm was there in trying it? I was a big girl. I was brave. I could be brave.

"It would make me so happy if you just gave it a try," he concluded. He sucked lightly on my earlobe. He kissed my neck and smelled my hair.

"Okay," I exhaled. I could just try it. I could learn to like it if I just gave it a try.

He added more saliva. Another drop of it oozed down my skin and briefly lubricated the flesh of my backside. He worked his finger deeper inside me. It was the world's strangest feeling. I couldn't even describe it to someone that hadn't experienced it. It wasn't exactly painful, but it certainly wasn't what I would call pleasant. He moved his one long finger in and out of me. I closed my eyes. I tried to think about his cock inside me, not his finger wiggling around. I tried to think about anything else, anything at all. Jason had been at the bar today. He'd come by with some girl he'd been screwing. I couldn't remember her name. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair and sparkling green eyes. I'd read her thoughts, mostly because I was curious as to what she thought of Jason. I remembered that she liked pickles and thought my brother was great lay, but had about six brain cells between his ears. I liked her instantly, and I only half-charged her sandwich. It takes a lot for me to give a fifty percent discount on food, but that girl, she deserved it. She was a smart cookie.

I couldn't ignore him anymore, and I lifted my head. I pushed my upper body off the mattress and I leaned on my wrists. My body and mind were screaming no. No, absolutely not, no way, not going to happen. He forced his way inside of me because, let's face it, the only way you fit a cucumber through a pinhole is if you force it. I expected some sort of popping noise, like an air bubble. There was no such noise. Instead, I only heard my teeth gnash together. It took every ounce of willpower not to scream right there and there, to say no out loud again, to tell him I absolutely was not willing to do this. Not now. Not ever.

My pleasure wasn't important. I wanted to please him. I didn't want to disappoint him.

He moved slowly in and out of me, stroking my spine with casual fingers. He seemed to be trying to soothe me, but how you do you keep a cringing dog safe? I was deeply miserable, confused, scared, and sad. I wanted to curl into the corner, to bury my head and cry. He was so slow, so deliberately aware of me. If he cared enough to do it this way, how could I deny him?

"You're doing so well, baby," he murmured. He took a piece of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers.

"I just want you to be happy," I whispered, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

"I am happy," he said.

I let him continue. He picked up his rhythm. I knew the slowness, the tenderness, couldn't last forever. I bit my lip and held onto the corners of the pillow. I couldn't tell him no. He'd been so good to me, so kind and gentle. He'd be so disappointed if I turned him down now. He'd cast me off again. He'd abandon me. I couldn't let that happen. I needed to be with him. I buried my head in my pillow. Bill picked up speed again.

When it was over, and he came, buried deep inside me, he pulled slowly out. He leaned over my spine and turned over to lie on his side. I turned over and buried my face in the well of his clavicle. There, tucked against the cool skin of my vampire lover, I began to weep. And then I bawled. Bill's fingers brushed through my hair. He let me cry, uninterrupted, into his skin, for several minutes. Finally, he tucked the crook of his forefinger under my chin and lifted my face to his. I looked at his nose. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"What is it, Sookie?" He asked me. His voice was watery, and I couldn't tell if he was concerned or frustrated. Did he understand the depth of human emotion? If I explained myself to him, would he know to show remorse?

"I don't know," I sighed between sobs. Truth be told, I didn't know. Something was wrong, but what was it? I'd done so well. I'd pleased him. I'd put myself last. I'd kept my own needs unimportant. I drew my pleasure from that.

"Then why are you crying, baby?" He brushed the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, but I replaced them with fresh ones.

"I don't know." I said again. "I can't stop."


	7. Chapter 7

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 7_

I dated Bill for nearly a year before I met his employer, Eric Northman, at a vampire bar in Shreveport, Louisiana. Bill had met my small family and a handful of close friends. They seemed to like Bill well enough. Gran was enamored with the fact that Bill was in the war, and Jason liked that he had Southern manners. Of course, Jason was annoyed by Bill's obvious vampire qualities. None of them knew what kind of relationship we shared, though I sometimes got dirty looks from my boss, Sam Merlotte, when I came into work with a scarf around my neck or a bandaid on my arm. Other than that though, people thought Bill was a fairly nice, quiet man.

Although Bill was acquainted with my family, I knew very little about him. Bill once told me that vampires don't like to discuss their lives before they turned, so I never ventured to ask. I was deeply curious, and often, I'd make up stories in my head, usually revolving around some _Gone with the Wind_ fantasy. Bill would be a gallant soldier headed off to battle to fight for Southern rights. Even in his early thirties, Bill would be unwed, waiting for the right woman to come along, someone with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in a blue silk dress with dozens of starched white petticoats. I didn't actually know anything about Bill Compton. He was an investigator, but I don't know what he actually investigated, and he visited the cemetery sometimes, so I guess any family he has was buried there. I never did go and look. I guess I was afraid that whatever I found would diminish my dreams of the gallant William Compton.

On a quiet Saturday night, Bill decided to expand my horizons a little and take me to Fangtasia, the most thriving vampire bar in Shreveport, a metropolis about an hour outside of Renard Parish. I wasn't sure how to dress for the occasion, so I asked Bill. He picked through my closet, admonished me for my lack of attractive dresses, and finally pulled out a short denim skirt and a lacy dark blue tank top. I put the ensemble on, making a note to myself to go to the mall to look for some new outfits. I didn't have a lot of money, but if Bill was going to be taking me out, I needed to look my best.

We took Bill's car to the bar. I sat back and listened to the radio. Bill liked classical music, and I pretty much hated it. It's not that I don't appreciate that sort of thing, but gosh darnit, it always make me really sleepy. It was a long drive to Shreveport, so I held in my yawns. Whenever I thought I was going to pass out, I'd pinch my thigh to jolt myself back to waking. Bill reached over and slid his hand along my leg as we drove. I smiled bashfully and looked down at his greedy fingers.

We pulled up in front of the bar at quarter to eleven. Bill came around and opened my door. He took my arm, perhaps a little more roughly than was typical, and led me up to the bouncer. In the year I'd dated Bill Compton, I'd never met another vampire. The bouncer was an enormous man with a shiny bald head. His skin was sallow, yellow with some sort of jaundice condition. He had watery hazel eyes, and the nametag on his tight black tee shirt read "George." Well okay then. I nodded my head to George and Bill took me inside. I don't know exactly what I was expecting from the bar. I guess I thought it would be like Merlotte's on a Saturday night, sorta crowded with Parish types, some passersby, everyone drinkin' beers or whiskey. Fangtasia wasn't like Merlotte's, not one bit. There were young people, lots of them, dressed in black patent leather or shiny latex costumes. Most of them wore black or bright red makeup, even the men. There were vampires in every corner of the room, some of them dancing on tables or just leaning against walls. The vampires looked really bored, like there were better places to be.

Bill ordered a True Blood and a gin and tonic for me. I sat down at a small round table and sipped at the drink. Bill pressed his lips lightly to my head before wandering off. I watched him almost float around the room, though I knew that wasn't possible. He pulled the arm of a young woman with black hair and black lipstick to his mouth. He bit into the flesh of her proffered wrist, sucked for a half second, licked the wounds, and walked away. She looked like she was about ready to faint. When he returned to our table, I slid off the stool and curled up against his side. He smiled and stroked my hair, leaned down and kissed my neck.

"None of those girls taste as good as you do, baby," he murmured reassuringly.

"I'm glad I please you so much," I replied. I could taste a bit of jealousy on the back of my tongue. I poured more of the drink down my throat and swallowed hard. I didn't have any right to be jealous. I belonged to him. He didn't belong to me.

In the smoky, heavy air of the bar, I noticed movement. Bill noticed it too, and we turned our heads simultaneously to a massive man seated on a dais. He flicked his fingers at us a second time, the movement casual and unhurried. Bill's face seemed to sour. The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes became cloudy. He took my arm and pulled me against him again. I left my drink beside his empty bottle on the table, and we walked toward the heavy elevated chair. I watched the vampire as we walked. He looked like a dog on a leash, straining to get away and yet pulled in. He was obeying an order, it looked like. I was shocked. Bill gave orders. He didn't obey anyone.

"Bill Compton," the man sneered as we approached. I examined him closely. His hips pressed against the back of the straight chair, but his legs extended well out beyond the seat. He was obviously quite tall with long legs and an equally long torso. He had folded his hands into his lap, and his fingers were long and pale white, his fingernails neatly manicured. He had a beautiful face, decorated with fine blond stubble. His eyes were bright and blue, like cubes of perfectly cut ice. He had long white-blond hair which fell around his shoulders. Dressed in a tight black tee shirt and black denim jeans, I could tell that he was muscular, far more so than Bill. He really was a beautiful man, well-preserved by immortality. "It has been awhile."

"Eric," Bill grunted. "Yes, well I've been…"

"Mainstreaming," Eric smirked, cutting him off. "I heard." He paused and turned to look at me. His piercing blue eyes could have been hot pokers for all they did to me. "I see that is going well for you."

"My apologies, Eric, this is Sookie, Sookie Stackhouse." Bill fumbled nervously. I'd never seen him so… at a loss. It was disconcerting, and I didn't like it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stackhouse," Eric smiled. The polite Southern girl in me wanted to stick out my hand and shake his, but I knew better. I tucked myself against Bill and remained still.

"You too," I said quietly. Bill squeezed my hand so tightly I thought it would pop right off in his grip. I shut my yap and hoped I wouldn't have to pay for that later.

"So, Bill," Eric grinned, looking from our clasped hands to my face. "Are you quite attached to your friend?"

"She is mine," Bill hissed. It was the first time I'd heard him say something like that aloud. I felt my heart swell with pride. Yes, I was his. It was all extremely gratifying, like he was proud to take ownership of me.

"Well, what a pity, for me." Eric frowned. He cocked his head to one side, as though he were studying me and my silence, then dropped his eyes along the length of my figure. If my knees could have blushed, they would have.

After we'd been introduced, Eric dismissed us again. I could feel his eyes boring holes into my shoulders as we turned away and resumed sitting at our table. Bill's eyes roamed the bar and fell on a young woman with unnaturally auburn hair and brown eyes. He stroked my head briefly before walking away to join her. I looked around the bar, nursing my single drink. A woman appeared rather suddenly at my side. Her black hair shone under the reddish lights of the bar, and she pressed her cold hand against my arm. She pressed her face into mine, and I saw her red-stained fangs glint.

"Hey there, all alone?" she hissed at me.

"No, she isn't," I heard a dark male voice answer for me. I whipped around to see Eric Northman at my other shoulder, preparing to sit down on the stool Bill had abandoned. The woman squeaked and departed as quickly as she had appeared. Eric, I gathered, was the big man on campus. If he could make Bill go all gushy, he had to be a pretty scary guy. Now that he was sitting with me, I was sure I'd done something wrong.

"Tell me, Sookie, how long have you been with Bill?" Eric asked. There was a gentility in his voice that I hadn't noticed before. I couldn't name it or put my finger on it, but it was like he realized who his audience was and catered his actions to that specific crowd. The harshness of his eyes had faded too. He looked more human.

"About a year," I answered quietly. I twirled the straw in my drink.

"You're unhappy," Eric commented. I blinked and looked up into his face, though I did not meet his eyes again.

"I'm not," I answered, even though it was clearly a statement and not a question. Who was this guy to tell me I was unhappy? He didn't know me from Adam!

"It is clear that you are. I can smell it on you. If I took your blood, I could taste it in you. Tell me, why do you put up with him if you are miserable?"

"I'm happy. Maybe you're getting that…that smell…off somebody else. I love Bill. He loves me. We're very happy together." I could feel my voice shaking and I hoped he wouldn't notice it and think the worst of me.

If Eric did notice my wobbling, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he pressed his large hand under my chin and turned my head. I kept my neck tight, but he moved me with ease. His skin was rough but at the same time soft (if that makes any sense). He tilted my face and turned it despite my unwillingness. I felt him flinch when he saw the bruise on my neck, hidden under my hair. Bill had been playing rough, as he often did. He'd clutched the back of my head and squeezed. I'd actually passed out for a second. When I woke up, Bill had me tucked against his bare chest. He was stroking me affectionately, waiting for me to wake up and be okay.

"Bill should take better care of his things…" Eric frowned. I snatched another look at his face. His frown looked sincere, as though he were disappointed by the way Bill had treated me. I didn't know what to do with that frown, how to talk to him, how to relate. He swept his hand along the line of my cheek, the edge of my jaw. He looked like he wanted to kiss me, the way his mouth moved and his eyes half-closed. If I could have read vampire minds, this would've been a great moment.

Eric disappeared before Bill rejoined me, his face bright and pink, his lips tinged red and damp. He kissed my forehead, and I swear he looked over my head at Eric. He had retaken his seat on the dais and he watched us as we left, my arms clamped around Bill's one forearm. I looked over my shoulder at him as we darted out of the bar and into the warm, humid night. He was still staring at me.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This is a short chapter, but I intend to have 9 up tonight as well, and possibly 10 and 11 up by the end of the weekend! Stay tuned! _

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**It's About Power**

_Chapter 8_

I wiped my face with a tissue and curled up against him. His arm slithered around me, and he threw his leg over mine. They were signs of his possession of me, and I loved that. Bill's hands drifted lightly through my hair, brushing my tresses. I shut my eyes, and instantly fell back into my childhood. Have things happened to you when you were a little kid? You don't expect to remember them but you always do? I pulled Bill's hand into mine and I kissed each one of his fingertips. It had been a good night for us, and even though I'd cried after, I still felt okay. I opened my mouth and shut it again. Bill's lips touched my earlobe.

"When my parents died, I came to live with my Gran," I said quietly. Bill nodded behind me. He knew that. He knew about the flood, about Jason and me coming to live in the farmhouse.

"Well, we had an uncle, Uncle Barlett. I guess he was technically my great uncle, because he was Gran's brother. Anyway, he would sometimes watch me when Gran was out buying groceries or taking Jason to practice."

"Mmhmm," Bill hummed, an indication that he was listening.

"I could hear his thoughts, but I was only little. I didn't really know what I was hearing. I didn't really understand what he was thinking. He…" I paused. I tried to sort out my own thought-chaos. I remembered what my Uncle Barlett had done to me. I never used to think I could end up here, doing stuff like this…not after that.

"You can tell me, Sookie," Bill said softly.

"He used to touch me is all. It's not nearly so bad as what happens to some girls." I took a deep breath.

"Do you think you're so scared of it because some part of you liked it?" Bill asked me.

"Do…what?" I asked. I sat up. I kicked Bill away and I crawled out of the bed. I stared at him, my eyes as big as saucers.

"Come on, Sookie," Bill frowned. "If it had bothered you that much, you wouldn't be here right now. Maybe you liked the attention."

"I…I…" I couldn't think of a good retort. Was he crazy? To think that I could…that I would want… I couldn't even finish my thoughts, they were so awful. "I have to go."

"Sookie," Bill grunted. He was up now. I didn't stop to look at him. I pulled on my clothes and grabbed my overnight bag off the chair by the bedroom door.

"Don't…I just have to… I have church in the morning." I lied through my teeth.

"Sookie," he grabbed my arm. I froze. For the first time, I noticed that my eyes were blurry with tears. "Eric is sending me on a business trip tomorrow night. He is coming down here to keep an eye on you while I'm gone. He insisted, in fact. Did you say something else to him while I was out talking to Susan?"

"No," I snorted. A part of me filled up with relief to know he'd be gone until I could cool off, regain my composure. A part of me didn't even care that he was leaving.

"Think about what I said, Sookie." He touched my back as if he meant to soothe me. I remained rigid, like a statue. "Goodnight."

"Yeah," I muttered. I threw my things into their bag and stormed out.

The next night, I watched Bill's car roll out of his gravel driveway and down the road. At the same moment, a black muscle car drove down that same driveway. The two cars didn't stop when they passed one another. Neither driver seemed to acknowledge the other. I saw all this from the living room window. Eric Northman got out of his car and surveyed the big old Compton house. He turned on his heel and looked across the lawn and up at me. Could he see me looking out the window from here? I didn't doubt it. I shut the curtains just as I heard a knock on the door.

"Miss Stackhouse," Eric nodded when I opened the door. I stepped out of the house and onto the porch. Eric nodded to me, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. A few strands of hair fell out of the intricate braid tied behind him and danced down along his cheek. He didn't move to push them away. I wanted to, if only I could touch his face the way he had touched mine. I couldn't explain the way I felt when I was near him. He was handsome, and obviously capable of kindness. I knew him about as well as I knew the man I was seeing. That was worrisome and also intriguing.

"Please call me Sookie," I said.

"And you may call me Eric," he smiled thoughtfully. He moved to sit down on the porch swing, and I followed him, hovering near the arm of the chair.

"Can I get you something? I have some O negative in the fridge."

"Thank you, I'm fine. I'd much prefer your company." Eric moved over on the swing, inviting me to sit down. I looked out across the yard to Bill's house with its dark windows.

"You're not doing anything wrong, Sookie. He knows I'm here."

"Okay," I agreed nervously. I sat down on the swing and crossed my ankles. I looked out at the darkness and watched fireflies dance above the damp grass.

"Tell me more about yourself, Sookie," Eric said. "Tell me how you met Bill."

I only told him bits and pieces: my parents dying, my Gran, a little about Jason. I told him I worked at Merlotte's and that that was where I met Bill. I told him that Bill was the first man I'd ever been in love with.

"Bill tells me you're telepathic, that you can read the thoughts of other humans." Eric mused. He turned to face me. He seemed to be scanning me, the way a computer scans a photograph on one of those science fiction programs.

"He told you that? Why would he tell you that?" I squeaked.

"I am his…employer, Sookie. He owes me his fealty."

"Well, there's not much to tell. I can read thoughts. Sometimes I can see images, like pictures? It's not always so clear, like you might think." I paused and looked at him. "I can't read vampire thoughts."

"Interesting. I may have to use your gift to my advantage, Sookie."

"What do you mean?" I blinked.

"Well, Bill owns you, does he not?" Eric asked. He almost sneered when he said it. I watched his eyes narrow. "And I, in essence, own Bill. Thus, when Bill owes me a favor, as he does now, it may be in my best interest to collect on that debt by using your gift. Do you understand?"

"I guess," I frowned. Apparently I'd become some sort of bargaining chip.

"Are you against helping Bill to pay his debts, Sookie?" I couldn't discern the look on his face. Was he happy? Was he confused? His eyes were focused right on me, and his arms leaned heavily on his thighs. He almost looked…hopeful.

"No," I shook my head. "I belong to Bill. I'd do anything to please him."

"Never say 'anything', Sookie, unless you really mean it." Eric frowned. He moved closer to me, so that our legs were touching. His jeans were remarkably soft against my bare leg. He seemed overwhelmingly large beside me. I'm not a tiny person, believe me, but Eric was gigantic and imposing. If he hadn't already showed his kindness, I'd be afraid of him. With one great swoop of his arm, he pulled me close. His free hand cupped my face and brought it close to him. His mouth was inches from mine. My heart started beating faster. I was worried and yet, aroused. I found myself reminded of the first time I'd met Bill, the first time he'd kissed me.

"If Bill ordered you to submit to sex with me, would you do it?" Eric growled. He was wearing some kind of musky cologne. I inhaled it, and it made my heart quicken. I listened to the words, and I rolled them over in my head. Had I ever said no to Bill and really made it stick? Would I say no if he wanted to loan me out to his friends? Would that please him, to see me with Eric?

"Yes," I said quietly, almost ashamed of myself. There was a part of me that was turned on by that, by being given away, especially to a man like Eric. But it was only a small part. Most of me was just revolted that Bill would ever consider such a thing.

"I see," Eric frowned. He seemed to grow even paler. He got up so suddenly off the swing that it smacked violently against the clapboard siding. He clenched his fists for a second, and I wondered where he intended to throw them. Was this reaction of anger for me, or was there something else bothering him?

"Go back inside the house, Sookie. Bill will be home tomorrow night. I will see you again."


	9. Chapter 9

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 9_

A little over a week after Bill returned, Eric saw an opportunity to summon us back to Fangtasia. Bill seemed less than pleased about the whole ordeal, but what could he do about it? I saw him between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to keep me away from Eric, that much I could tell. When he had returned from his one night away from Bon Temps, he'd ravaged me like a wild animal on fresh prey. I'm come away from the night with bruises, sore from a night of savage love-making. He'd told me over and over again that I smelled like Eric, that my flesh tasted like Eric. He'd held me so close to his chest after it was over. He'd missed me. He loved me. I was his, and I wanted that. Despite the soreness of my physical self, I was largely relieved and at peace. I forgot about Bill's weird psychological diagnosis. I forgot about Eric's suggestion of forced sex. I forgot about everything but Bill's caresses, his murmurings of pleasure, his desire for me.

"He's summoned us," Bill said through gritted teeth when he came to the door. He took my arm and we walked back through the house to my bedroom. He pulled out a rather conservative outfit for me to wear, black slacks and a button-up white shirt, and he brushed my hair while I put on makeup. We left in a big ol' rush, and in the car, Bill barely looked at me. I wanted to ask him when he'd told Eric about my telepathy, but I didn't. I wanted to ask him if he'd thought about giving me away to Eric, but I didn't. Instead, I sat still and stared out the windshield. For once, I had absolutely no desire to fall asleep while listening to Mozart. Everything I heard just made me a little more tense, a little more nervous. By the time we got to Shreveport, my muscles were on fire from straining so hard.

Bill knocked on the back door of the bar, and a pretty blond vampire answered the door. She had a thin face to match a thin frame, but her lips were as full as the pair on that actress, Angelina Jolie. The woman had a strangely beautiful charm. She smiled at me and bent to kiss my cheek.

"Good evening Bill," she smiled. "Pleasure to finally meet you, Sookie. I'm Pam." She nodded at me, and I nodded back. Vampires don't shake hands. It's always a little inward struggle to remember that.

Pam led us through the bar, darkened on a weekday. She took us down a hallway and pushed open a nondescript black metal door. The room was fairly small, obviously an office. It was a bit dull in its décor, containing only a dark wood desk and chair, a green leather sofa, and a bookshelf. The bookshelf didn't contain any actual reading material. Instead, it was lined with black binders containing a variety of white papers. I figured they had to be records of some kind. Behind the desk, seated in a cozy looking black leather desk chair, was Eric. He got up when we walked in, came around to the front of the desk, and leaned against it. He crossed his bare arms over his chest and I watched the muscles bulge. Impressive. Pam stood with a man I recognized as the bartender, Long Shadow. Between them, they held a rotund man with sweaty brown hair.

Bill placed his hands on my shoulders and looked over my head at Eric. I could feel his weight pressing down on me, but I didn't want to say anything. Instead, I diverted my eyes to the floor and waited for instruction.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Eric said, as if Bill had any choice in the matter. I felt the vampire's presence as he drew closer to me. He touched my shoulder and I looked up.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Sookie." He tilted his head and looked at me. "Are you feeling alright?" I nodded slightly, but made no other reply. Bill squeezed my shoulder, and I knew I'd made the right decision. Eric stood back again and I dropped my eyes to the floor. The floor was just easier to look at than any of the collected vampires.

"Sookie, this is Bruce." Eric pointed to the sweaty man clutched between Pam and Long Shadow. For the first time, I took a long look at him. He was a heavy set man, and, if I could judge him on his appearance alone, I'd say he was an accountant. He just had that accountant look: brown slacks, a brown-striped white shirt, pit stains, black rimmed glasses, and a comb over. Really, he looked like he'd popped out of a bad episode of Law and Order.

"Sookie, read Bruce." Eric said. I blinked and lifted my face from Bruce to address Eric. Okay, so you want me to read him, but for what? I wasn't looking in a mirror, so I couldn't tell you how I looked at Eric when I did so, but by his reaction, I gathered I had a questioning look plastered to my face.

"Someone has stolen sixty-thousand dollars from the bar," Eric frowned. He was so big and imposing, he seemed to fill up the whole office. "I want to know who. Since Bruce reported the incident, he is a suspect. I have a few humans in my employ, and I'd like you to question them all with you…talent."

"Oh," I said quietly. In my head, I wondered what Eric would do to the culprit. Would he kill them, torture them, serve them as Sunday dinner? I could have asked. Maybe I should have asked. But Bill pushed me onto the leather sofa and Long Shadow plunked Bruce down beside me. I looked over at the sweaty accountant. He looked plumb nervous, and I didn't blame him. After all, we were sitting ducks in a room full of vampires. I didn't doubt that Pam and Long Shadow would forego this exercise if they could just eat us instead. I didn't get that vibe from Eric, and I knew Bill wouldn't just go feasting on me for the heck of it, but…

I sighed, silently, and reached out to touch Bruce's arm. He was clammy, sticky, and pretty gross. I tried to make as little contact with him as possible. I got a flood of thoughts as soon as we were skin to skin. They were hard to make out at first, but then I seemed to latch onto the stream. _Should've found some fucking evidence before I even went to Eric! Damnit Bruce, you have a wife, kids to think about. These vampires—they're going to eat you alive! Damnit damnit damnit if only you knew who took the fucking money! _I withdrew my hand and looked at him. His eyes were wild, bouncing around the room like bullets stuck in a steel box. I swiveled around on the couch and looked up at Eric.

"He didn't take it. He doesn't know who did."

"Pam," Eric nodded at the blond vampire and she picked Bruce up by his arm. She disappeared with him and returned a moment later with a woman.

"Ginger, have a seat," Eric grunted at the woman, obviously a waitress like me. She had wild red hair that fit her name, and bright brown eyes. She splayed her legs when she sat down, and she gave Bill the kind of look that made me want to slap her across the face. I felt almost…possessive, though I had no right to be. She just looked like one of those sorts of women. I disliked her instantly.

"Sookie," Eric prompted me. I took Ginger's arm. She flinched but allowed me after a warning look from her boss over my shoulder. I dug around in her cloudy mind, but I came up with nothing. It was almost as if she wanted to tell me things and couldn't. She knew the truth, of that I was certain.

"She knows something," I said flatly. "She can't tell me what she knows, but she knows something important. It's like…like something's holding her back." I knew how she felt. There were so many things I wanted to say and knew that I couldn't.

"She's been hypnotized," Pam murmured thoughtfully.

"Pam, bring in Belinda," Eric said behind me. Pam picked up Ginger and escorted her from the room. Belinda came in with Pam and sat down on the sofa. She sat down quietly and looked from me to each of the assembled vampires in turn. I reached out to touch her, to get information from her, when the whole world went smacking into chaos.

Long Shadow came ripping across the small room. His arms clasped around my shoulders and he threw me from the couch to Eric's desk. My hips slammed roughly against the wood and I heard the desk chair pound into the wall. I threw up my arm defensively and felt teeth clamp down on my forearm. A stunted scream forced itself out of my throat, but it sounded more like a loud cough than the sound I'd intended. I could see his eyes, dark brown and smoldering like a firestorm, over the block of my arm. Then his whole face seemed to go dark, to cave in on itself and falter. His mouth hacked back and threw blood into my face. I gagged as I tasted it on my tongue. Chunks of his greasy black hair fell around me as he crumbled. Fluid gushed from his nose and eye sockets. I watched in absolute horror as arms lugged me out from under the disintegrating body of the bartender.

I looked down at myself. I was covered in blood, only a tiny bit of it my own. Eric stood over Long Shadow, as though he'd frozen in time. A huge wooden stake protruded from his back, and in Eric's hand, I saw a steel-headed mallet. Around me, the vampires were crouched in some sort of hunting position. Bill's fangs protruded and his eyes narrowed. I'd seen him look like that before and I didn't like it. I most certainly didn't like it now, when we were in the company of others. Eric turned to me. He placed the mallet on the desk where Long Shadow's body began to crackle and hiss like the dying embers on a fire. His fangs were out as well and his icy blue eyes were almost white. He took a step toward me.

"You're bleeding," he groaned. I lifted my sore arm to look at it. Yes, I was definitely bleeding. I was in pain too. I clutched my arm with my opposite hand and put pressure on the wound. I remembered that much from Babysitter's First Aid. "You should get cleaned up."

"I'll be okay," I whispered, my voice croaking from the previous scream. I just wanted to get out of there, to go home. I couldn't bear to look at Bill again, to see him crouched and ready to pounce.

"Come," Eric held out an arm. I looked at him. He made an effort to restrain himself, even to withdraw his fangs halfway. Some of the color returned to his face. I took his arm carefully and he led me out of the lion's den, through a hallway, and down to the women's washroom. Once there, he pushed my arm under the tap. Every time he touched the blood on my arm, he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick the residue away. I shuddered.

"Did you ingest some of his blood?" He asked, continuing to wash my arm.

"I don't know," I said cautiously. "Maybe."

"Vampire blood has a curious effect on humans, Sookie. It changes the way they see the world. It's magic." He reached out and smoothed his hand over my blood-splattered cheek. "You look better already."

"I better go," I murmured. "Bill will want to leave now that we helped you…"

"You should stop seeing him, Sookie," Eric frowned. He licked his fingers. He looked down at my bite.

"I love him," I sighed. Did I? Sometimes I wasn't so sure.

"Be cautious, Sookie. That's all I…" he didn't finish. The door burst open behind us and Bill walked in. He swept me up off the tile floor and pulled me against his clean blue shirt. It wouldn't be so clean now. He carried me out of the room, never saying a word.


	10. Chapter 10

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 10_

"You smell like him," Bill growled as he drove us along the interstate back to Bon Temps. He'd left the radio off for this trip. I clutched my arm, which had finally stopped bleeding and really didn't look so bad now. Surprising. It had looked like hell before…

"What?" I blinked. I looked across the car at Bill. When he'd found me in the bathroom with Eric, he'd swept me right off my feet without a word. He'd practically thrown me into the car, gotten in behind the wheel, and sped out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. It was a wonder we hadn't gotten pulled over yet. Maybe the cops could tell it wasn't worth it. Bill probably would've killed them if he'd been given half a chance.

"You _smell_ like Eric," Bill seethed. He swerved and pulled the car off the road into an abandoned lot. I felt my stomach lurch as the car went diving down into the lot. Bill yanked my door open and ripped me from the car. My seatbelt snapped and whacked me in the shoulder. That hurt. Bill's eyes were half-lidded. His fangs were out again, fully extended, ready to bite. He ripped at the button on my slacks and pulled them down around my knees.

I couldn't help it. I screamed.

"Bill, please!" I squeaked, but Bill couldn't hear me now. Whoever that monster was, it wasn't the man I knew. Sure, he could be mean sometimes. He could be downright cruel. But he was always that way knowing I'd be okay. Maybe I'd cry a little, but he'd be there for me. I'd be okay. We'd be okay. Not now. This wasn't like those times before. This wasn't the same kind of deal. I was up a creek without a paddle.

Bill was inside me in a second. He threw my chest against the car and I smacked my bitten arm on the roof. Ow. The tears were hot on my cheeks. Bill was rough and mean and hurting me. I clawed at the car as if it could protect me. Behind me, Bill went at it for about five minutes. Then he pulled out. He grabbed me by the neck and turned me around. His mouth tasted mine, and he bit the inside of my lip. I beat on his chest weakly, like a kitten, and for the first time I saw how powerless I really was. He pulled back at last and got back into the car. I crawled into my seat, leaned against the door with the window rolled down, and I cried silently until Bill's cellular phone rang.

He looked at it for a long time before he answered it. He pressed the phone to his ear and then held it out to me without a word.

"Sookie?" It was Jason. I wanted to tell him to come get me, but of course, I was on my way home in a moving vehicle. I tried to suppress my weeping so he wouldn't worry.

"Jason?"

"Are you near home, Sook? Listen uh, just be here as soon as you can okay?"

"What…what's going on?" I didn't like the tone in his voice. I didn't like it one bit.

"It's Gran, Sook. She's… she passed away."

I was silent the rest of the way home. Bill was silent too. He didn't ask who was on the phone or what they wanted, and because he didn't ask, I didn't tell him. When we got to the house, there was an ambulance and Sheriff Dearborne's police car. I stumbled up the steps and I heard the stairs lurch as Bill followed me slowly. Jason was sitting on the couch in the living room. He had his head in his hands.

"Jason?" I whimpered as I sat down on the sofa beside him. If he noticed I was in disarray, he didn't mention it. Instead, he pulled me against his shoulder and we cried together. I could feel Bill hovering near us, and I didn't know what I wanted to do about that. I wanted him to comfort me, and at the same time, I didn't want his hands anywhere near me. Jason got up to use the bathroom. He patted Bill on the shoulder, and he sat down beside me. I gave in. I wanted to be close to someone and right now, I didn't care who that someone turned out to be. I curled my body against Bill's chest and leaned into him. Bill sat there like a lump. He tucked his arm around me, but only because he didn't know what else to do. I looked up at him and he was staring at the wall beyond me. Jason walked through the living room toward the kitchen. I heard him digging around in Gran's fridge.

"You need to go," I said to Bill. I sat up on the sofa. I pressed my hand to my hair and realized it was messy and crazy and that my brother had seen that. Thankfully my brother didn't know what we'd done tonight, what Bill had done, what I'd let him do.

"Excuse me?" Bill raised an eyebrow. He probably wondered why I was telling him what to do. Well, he could go on wondering. For the first time in a year, I didn't care.

"You need to go, Bill. I need to be with Jason."

"Do you really want to kick me out, Sookie?" Bill was on his feet now. He looked imposing, and he looked mean, and I didn't know if I had the strength. "Do you really want me to go?"

"Sook, everything okay?" Jason asked. He was behind me now. I felt his hand on my shoulder. Sometimes it's nice to have a big brother.

"Yes, everything's fine." I said. "Bill, I revoke your invitation to this house."

I'd never seen a vampire get uninvited. Heck, I'd only ever invited one vampire into my house, and now I was uninviting him. Bill looked mighty angry when his body walked itself backwards out of the house, out the front door, down the porch steps. He gave me a foul stare and then turned around and walked home. I felt a cold shudder go through my flesh, and I fell back against Jason. He walked me to the kitchen and we sat down in front of one of Gran's strawberry pies. My brother handed me a fork.

The funeral was hard, but the wake was so much harder. Jason spent most of the wake in the kitchen, eating his way through casseroles and cakes left by Gran's friends from the Bon Temps community. Without my brother to cling to (he was a mess all by himself), or Bill, I was a wreck. My old friend Tara, along with Sam and Arlene, ran the wake. I cornered myself off in my bedroom and hid from the world. I curled up on the bed and spent my waking hours crying. When I wasn't crying, I was avoiding offers of food and drink from my loved ones. Sam came by with tacos. Arlene wanted to give me some rainbow sherbet punch. Tara had fried chicken. I told them all I wasn't hungry, and eventually the party died down. I woke up after midnight and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

The urn was still sitting on the tiled kitchen counter, forgotten by some matronly type from the old guard of Bon Temps. I stuffed a cup underneath it and poured myself a cup of still hot but not terribly tasty coffee. I grabbed a slice of leftover cake from the fridge and went to sit down at the kitchen table. Gran had always had a lovely kitchen. The table looked out over a big bay window with a seat built into it. She had shutters on it, but they were open in the summer time. I looked out over the grassy lawn and dropped my coffee cup. Coffee splattered everywhere, stinging my leg and staining the legs of the table. There was Bill, standing on the lawn in the same clothes I'd met him in, drinking a True Blood out of the bottle. His normally tidy hair was messy across his forehead, and he'd stuffed one of his hands into his pockets. In the moonlight, his slight but muscular frame was perfectly outlined. He looked beautiful, except for the stare of pure hatred on his face. I scrambled up to the window and pressed my nose against it. I blinked. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.

I spent three days cooped up in the house, afraid to go outside. Thankfully, after the wake, there was a lot of food just lying around. Jason kept away for the most part, so I didn't get any grief from him about staying home and stewing. On the third day of my self-enclosure, the phone rang at about three in the afternoon.

"Hey Sook, it's Sam, just called to see how you're doin'," Sam said. He sounded worried.

"I'm okay, Sam, considering…"

"Yeah, I hear that. I was just wondering when you're planning on uh…well, comin' back to work I guess. It's no rush, believe me."

"I don't know Sam," I frowned. Honestly, I didn't have a clue. I could work the day shift, that was okay, but I didn't want to get home after dark, and I didn't want to be out late at night. I still didn't know if the Bill I'd seen on my lawn was the real Bill or just my imagination, but I didn't doubt that if I went outside after dark, Bill would find an excuse to "come and talk" to me.

I even started having nightmares about seeing him. I'd go to sleep trying to think about anything else, anything at all, and I'd imagine him breaking into my house or coming into my bedroom. He'd push me down against the bed and he'd hurt me. He'd tell me I was worthless without him or that I needed him to survive. He'd tell me I wanted him to hurt me, that I liked it, that I needed it to feel like I was loved. He'd have sex with me and I'd try to tell him no, but something always prevented me. He'd be choking me or talking over me or I just couldn't speak. Whatever it was, I always woke up screaming, and I always knew I'd let it happen. It was my fault. I hadn't done anything to stop it.


	11. Chapter 11

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 11_

Bill stood over me, his hands around my throat. We'd been in this situation before. Bill would squeeze off my air supply. I could watch his cock grow with wide eyes. I'd struggle and squirm and that would only make him want me more. The fact that he wanted me made me want him. It was an exercise in fear and desire, the two emotions coupled together in some sort of strange erotic interplay. It haunted me now. I woke up panting, as though I was still struggling to breathe. My head was pounding from lack of oxygen, and the knocking on the front door didn't help.

I got up slowly and uneasily off the sofa where I had fallen asleep after work. My black tennis shoes brushed against the hardwood floor because I had trouble lifting my feet when I walked. I opened the door without thinking, but then again, we didn't have a peep hole. I thought about getting one installed when I saw who was standing on the doorstep. Bill Compton looked neat and pristine. His jaw was tight and set, and his hands were pressed against his sides. I looked at him through the screen door. This was as close as he could get to me.

"Come outside, Sookie," Bill said plainly. I opened the screen door and he moved out of the way. I walked outside and sat down on the porch swing. It was more like a reaction than a thought process. I was already outside and seated before I knew I'd followed his instructions. I felt like such a stupid fool.

"I'm ready to hear your apology," Bill sighed. He touched my knee and I flinched involuntarily. He didn't pull his hand away, and I didn't push it away. But I wanted to push him away. I wanted to run back into the house and hide.

"I don't have anything to apologize for," I replied through clenched teeth. It would be easier to apologize. It would be easier to give in and tell him I was wrong. It would be easier to take whatever punishment he would give me. It would be easier to do that than to do what I had planned. I stood up and his hand slid away. I walked over to the railing that surrounded the porch. I leaned against the wood and closed my eyes.

"I want to break up with you." There were already tears in my eyes and they rolled down my cheeks in big, heavy drops. I couldn't not cry. I'd tried to hold back the tears when I practiced this stupid speech in front of the mirror, but I couldn't do it. I knew this day was coming. We'd been at this too long and it was just too hard. I loved Bill, but I just…

"I love you. I love you and I don't want to be with anyone else. But I can't do this anymore. This isn't me. I'm scared of you, and I'm scared of what I am when I'm with you. I shouldn't be crying after we make love! I shouldn't be telling myself to shut up when I'm hurting. I'm miserable when I'm with you. I can't… I'm sorry." I was sobbing now. My knees were shaking and I had to hold myself up with the railing. I hiccupped as I gasped for air.

"I've known for awhile you were unhappy, Sookie." Bill said plainly. The blank look on his face didn't change. I couldn't tell if he was upset or happy, angry or just as blah as he really looked. "I've always looked out for your best interests, but you are just not submissive enough. You don't have it in you. You're rebellious. This isn't the relationship for you. We aren't right together." He stood up and towered over me. I thought I couldn't breathe before, but I really couldn't now. What did he mean? Was he saying I'd failed? For a year I'd failed? I hadn't put up a fight and I hadn't told him no and I'd stood up to everything he'd ever done to me and I still wasn't good enough?

"I never loved you, Sookie." Bill said matter-of-factly, the same way someone says they don't want ketchup on their French fries. I stared at him. I wanted to scream and carry on, to slap him across the face, to rip out his dead heart and beat him with it. Instead, I just stood there and stared. I'd broken up with Bill, but somehow he'd just broken me.

Bill walked down the steps and away from the house. I went into the house. I stood in the middle of the floor and I looked around, completely at a loss. This was my grandmother's house. She'd died of a heart attack in these walls while I was being used for sex by my boyfriend, my boyfriend who didn't care about me and knew I was unhappy and kept stringing me along. I picked up a glass candy dish from the coffee table and threw it against the wall. It shattered, leaving a dent in the wallpaper. Glass went every which way. I picked up a vase. Threw it. More shards of glass and ceramic this time. I picked up more things and threw them. I threw things until I ran out of things to throw.

I went into the kitchen and rummaged around in the junk drawer. I caught my finger on an exacto knife blade that hadn't been properly stored. I pulled my hand out of the drawer and looked at the drops of blood on my fingers. I'd sliced them clean open, but I couldn't seem to feel the sting. I held my hand over the sink and watched the blood drip into the porcelain basin. Drip drip drip. I couldn't feel a damn thing. It was like I was dead inside. I dug around in the drawer again, and this time, I pulled out a big kitchen knife. I thought about Bill hurting me. I thought about how much I'd liked it, how much I'd enjoyed him enjoying me. I looked down at the blade and saw my tear-stained face reflected in it. I pressed the edge to my skin and I pulled. The knife was sharp, but not that sharp. I left a line in the skin, several layers deep, but only deep enough to get small bubbles of fresh blood. I dropped the knife in the sink, abandoned it.

Even though it was dark, I stormed out of the house. I walked up the gravel driveway. I could barely see through my streaming tears. My shoulders shook. My hands quavered. I couldn't even walk in a straight line. I marched up to the sidewalk that traced the main road. I stalked down it, swinging my arms like baseball bats. All I could think about was Bill, how I'd wasted my time, how I'd put myself in that relationship, how it was my stupid fault. I'd done those things. I'd let them happen. If only I could have seen him for what he really was. If only I could have pulled out when I had the chance. I was so damn stupid.

I didn't even hear him pulling out into the road. I looked both ways and I made a beeline across the parking lot exit. The car pulled out so suddenly into the beam of a single street lamp. I screamed, and because I was weeping, the sound was lost. I stumbled into the road, pinned to the grill of an old Chevrolet by force alone. I fell on my knees and cried anew, more from the shock than anything. The driver jumped out of his car and came to my side. Another car, passing by, peeled to a halt. That driver got out and ran over to me. She put her arms around me. I flinched and shrugged them away.

"Hey, you okay?" The woman asked me. She bent down at my side and looked at me. She was a pretty young woman, about my age, with wavy auburn hair and green eyes. She wore glasses, but they were pushed up on top of her head. I gathered she wore them for driving.

"Fine," I grunted. I pushed myself up off the asphalt. I'd skinned my knees when I fell, but otherwise I was fine. More shocked than hurt, my Gran would have said.

"Hey, can I at least give you a ride home?" The woman asked. At the same moment, the cloudy sky broke overhead. It thundered. The street pitter-pattered with rain drops.

"You sure we don't need to call the cops or something, lady?" The driver asked.

"I'm sure. You go on home and watch where you're driving, okay?" The woman helped me to her car. She stuck me in the passenger seat and went around to get in on the other side. She had some sort of crystal hanging from her mirror.

"I'm Amelia. I just moved here from New Orleans. Where can I take you?"

"Sookie," I grunted. I pointed her back down the road to the farmhouse.

"Look, I don't mean to pry since we just met and all, but you want some company tonight? I was thinking of ordering some Chinese, and shit girl, you look like hell."

"I'm not hungry," I said. Gran would've rolled over in her grave, but…

"Well okay. Hey, I don't have too many friends in Bon Temps yet. Maybe we can get to know each other better, yanno? I'm trying to get a job at this bar, Merlotte's. Do you know it?"

"I work there."

"Oh really? Great! I think that Sam is such a cutie. Okay, well, here we are. Are you sure you don't want some Chinese? It's totally on me."

"Yeah." I looked at her. If I were in a better mood and didn't have broken stuff all over my floor, I'd invite her in. But that wasn't happening tonight, or anytime soon.

"Well, it was a pleasure saving you, anyway. Maybe I'll see you at the bar, huh?" Amelia smiled and waved after she drove away. I looked across the lawn at Bill's house. His car was gone and the lights were all out. I shuddered and went inside.

I spent weeks avoiding people, all people, any people. When I worked at the bar, I took day shifts. Amelia got the job as a new waitress slash barmaid, but she took on most of the night shifts I refused and we rarely saw one another for more than a couple minutes. She was sweet on Sam, and that just made me even more uncomfortable around the lot of them. When Tara or Sam would call, I was busy cleaning the house or working or washing my hair. I never went out, and if I did leave the house, I was sure to be back before nightfall. Looking back, it sounds like a pathetic existence, but at the time, it made me feel safe and in control. Those two states were more important to me than anything else in the world. As long as I was safe and in control, I couldn't be under Bill's thumb.


	12. Chapter 12

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 12_

"Hey Sookie!" Amelia greeted me with a beaming smile when I walked in to work at ten thirty on a Thursday morning. I gave her a half sort of wave, plastered on my shit-eating grin, and tied my apron around my waist. Amelia Broadway was a sweet girl, it turned out. Her saving of me on a crappy night when I was hit by a car turned out to be just one of Amelia's many charming qualities. Over the six weeks I knew her, I learned more and more about her. Amelia was a broadcaster. That is, her thoughts were ridiculously loud. I couldn't have blocked them out if I tried. I managed to keep her out of my head for about five minutes, in the car, talking about Chinese food, but that was the end of it. Amelia was determined to be my buddy, and I found that I couldn't deny her for long.

"Hey," I said quietly. I was rarely happy walking into work these days. I always woke up late after a long night of tossing and turning, dreaming about my ex-boyfriend, imagining he was watching me or hurting me or god only knows what else. I managed to keep him out of my daytime life, but at night I locked all my doors and watched endless episodes of kooky sitcoms. This week, I was working my way through the seventh season of _Friends_.

"So, you want to go bowling with me and Sam tonight? I called ahead and reserved a lane." Amelia grinned as she poured salt into shakers. I wanted some of whatever was in her cornflakes. Probably straight caffeine.

"I think I'm going to pass," I said. Bowling "tonight" meant bowling at night which meant being out after dark. I just wasn't ready for so bold a move. It had only been a month and a half since Bill and I had broken up. If he saw me out at night, he could find me. If he found me, he could get me. If he got me, he could hurt me. I wasn't about to make any steps that would allow for that.

"Well, okay, but we'd love to have you there," Amelia frowned. I could hear her broadcasting already, right through the bar, right into my brain like a stealth missile. _Poor Sookie. If she just came out with us, we'd keep her safe. Sam wouldn't let a thing happen to her, and neither would I. That Bill Compton…some day he's going to get what's coming to him. _I sighed. Sam had told her weeks ago. I figured the story of my crappy relationship and its terrible end after Gran passed away was all over Bon Temps by now. Heck, if I let myself open up the thought-hearing floodgates, I'd probably hear hundreds of folks wondering why I'd let that vampire into my life, wondering why I'd let him hurt me, wondering why I was such a stupid fool. They were right of course. And I didn't have the answers to give them, or to give myself.

"Maybe another time," I said. I turned to my tables and washed them down with a damp bar rag. I thought about bowling. When was the last time I'd gone out and had a good time? I had sort of enjoyed myself when I'd gone to Fangtasia with Bill. Bill. Ugh. He popped in my brain like the first waves of a migraine headache. Everything I'd done in the last year, everything I'd ever done for any sort of entertainment, I'd done with Bill. I'd stayed away from my friends, from my family, from my life. I'd spent all my time with Bill, and I'd been so happy. Except that I was completely unhappy. Heck, even my estranged ex-boyfriend had seen that I was completely miserable. Why had it taken me so long to get a fucking clue? Why Sookie? What's your damage?

I looked down at my table. I'd been rubbing the same spot with the dish rag for about five minutes. The varnish was actually rubbing off in that little spot. I stared in horror and covered it up with the sugar dish. I thought that sort of thing only happened in cartoons, like when Bugs Bunny paces in a circle until he's dug himself a big old donut hole in the ground! Amelia poked her head over my shoulder and laughed at my error. I let a little smile form on my lips. She was a good woman, that Amelia Broadway. She moved to give me a hug, but I shied away from the close contact. Before Bill, I'd never have turned down a good old bear hug from a friend, but things were different now. I couldn't let anyone get too close.

Sam popped up behind the bar as soon as I unlocked the front door. It was eleven o'clock and we were open for business. In the kitchen, Lafayette fired up the grill. I could hear it sizzling, and the smell of cooking grease made me a little hungry. Sam smiled at me and poured out a few glasses of fresh orange juice.

"I made it last night, brought it over from the trailer," he said, beaming a little bit. I don't like to read my boss's thoughts, so I never do. Besides, Sam is a man. He's pretty easy to read via body language, facial expressions, moods, that sort of thing. I took a glass off the counter and sipped it thoughtfully. Amelia chugged hers down in about three swallows. That was the sort of thing men liked to see. Believe me, I know.

"Tastes great, hon," Amelia smiled. She leaned over the counter and Sam gave her a quick kiss on her slightly puckered lips. I set my glass down and went to one of the booths to fold napkins. Watching them so happy made me uncomfortable. I couldn't help but think that soon, Sam was going to hurt Amelia. He was going to rip her to shreds, or use her and then ditch her, or rape her in an abandoned parking lot. I shuddered. Amelia came over and helped me fold linens. She didn't reach out and touch my hand, but she thought about it. I was glad she held back.

I worked until six and we all took off together. Amelia walked with me out to the parking lot and Sam followed behind us. He carried some stuff over to his trailer, grabbed his keys, and met us in the parking lot. Amelia sat on the hood of my old clunker. She was aching to hug me, to show me that she cared about me. I stayed a few steps away from her, and I kept my hands in my pockets.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Sookie?" Sam asked. He stood beside Amelia and took her hand in his. They were both smiling. The security light glinted in Sam's strawberry blond hair. Amelia had her driving glasses out of the little black case. She was perching them on top of her head. I looked between the two of them, and I thought about Bill. I thought about the first time I met him, in the very bar I'd just left. I thought about the first time he drove me home, about asking to court me. How had things gotten so crazy? All I had wanted was to make him happy, and somehow I'd become the world's most miserable woman. Instantly, I imagined Sam grabbing Amelia and shoving her against the car. I thought about him telling her he didn't really love her but he always had her best interests at heart. Of course, her best interests included treating her like dirt and ignoring her when she did something wrong, but hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth right?

"I'm sure," I said quietly. The sun was still high in the sky and I had plenty of time to go to the grocery store, buy food, go home, lock all my doors, cook food, and settle down in front of the television to zone out. It would be a regular night, nothing crazy. I was looking forward to it.

"Okay Sook, we'll see you tomorrow." Sam said. He moved to kiss me on the cheek. I took five steps backward and opened my car door. I could tell by the look on his face that he was hurt, but he didn't say anything. I knew what it was like to keep silent when you were hurting. Some part of me wanted to reach out to him, but I didn't. It wasn't safe for me.

"Goodnight Sookie!" Amelia smiled.

I pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the grocery store about a mile from the house. The sun decided to set early. I walked quickly around the store, gathering chicken from the butcher, rice from the boxed foods isle, bottled water and Coke, low fat popcorn and fruit rollups. I love those things. When I got out of the checkout line and hurried outside, the sky was already stained pink with the sunset. I looked at my watch. It was about 7:30 and perfect timing for sunset. I'd stood talking in the parking lot too long. I drove home at break-neck speed. Bill's car was sitting in his driveway and he'd left the light on in his living room. Or had he? The sun had officially set, though it was light out still. It didn't matter. I hurried in the house, my heart beating a mile a minute.

I threw my groceries on the kitchen table and began locking all the doors and shutting all the windows. This was what my life was like now, now that I'd broken up with Bill Compton. I'd like to say that I didn't have any logical reason to act this way. Bill never came over after we broke up. He never called. But sometimes I'd see him standing on his half of our wide lawn, a bottle of blood in his hand, his eyes on the house. I'd dropped several glasses of soda pop that way, finding him staring at me, watching me. Now I closed the curtains, the shutters, the shades. I kept the doors locked, the windows shut. He couldn't get in the house, but I wasn't going to give him any extra opportunities.

After I'd cooked, I sat down in front of the television. I turned on my DVD and sat back. I was half-way through the infamous Thanksgiving episode when I finally calmed down. I tossed popcorn into my mouth and took a few deep breaths. The phone rang and I let it go to the machine. It hung up. Whoever it was, it obviously wasn't important. I closed my eyes and saw Bill looming in my brain, a nightmare. I opened them again. It was going to be one of those nights when I fought off sleep for as long as possible. My eyes stung. I drank more Coke.


	13. Chapter 13

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 13_

I couldn't help looking out the window. I was making tuna noodle casserole, intending to bring half of it to work with me on Monday. I was draining tuna cans in the sink when I looked through the half-open blinds, out across the dark lawn. There he was, Bill Compton, my ex-boyfriend. A part of me missed having him around. It wasn't him that I missed specifically. It was the principle of the thing, the body next to me, the arms around me, the fingers in my hair. You always remember the bad things in your old relationships right? Whoever remembers the good times when the break-ups are bad? I couldn't recall a single time when we'd been truly happy, but I knew there were times like that. When we'd first started dating, he'd devote whole nights to my physical pleasure. He'd watch me writhe under his gentle tortures, and when it was over, he'd pull me against him and kiss me. It wasn't the sex I missed, though, so much as the holding, the touching, the caressing. I didn't let anyone hold me now. I didn't let anyone get too close. If people could hold me, they could hurt me. I couldn't let anyone in.

There he was, Bill Compton, a hundred feet away or so. He was nursing a bottle of True Blood. He was staring at me. I had no doubt Bill could see the whites of my eyes from this far away. He said he didn't love me, but that didn't mean he didn't want to hurt me some more. I set the cans of tuna down. I turned off the pre-heat setting on the stove. I grabbed my keys off the hook beside the back door. I left on every single light in the house. If it was on, I left it on. If it wasn't, I flipped it on before I exited. I jumped in my car. It was the first time I'd been outside after sunset in two months. I'd cooped myself up, knowing that I'd be safe from him inside those walls. But in there, only my physical body was safe. My mind was never free of him. He was always there, even when he wasn't.

At first, my instinct was just to drive. Just drive and drive until you get too tired. I had my wallet, my handbag, enough money for a hotel room (barely). If I needed to stop, I could stop. But I knew I would feel better if I kept driving. I got on the interstate toward Shreveport. It was a simple decision, a decision I couldn't explain. I just got on the road and sped off into the darkness. If I drove fast enough, he couldn't catch me. I didn't even think about police. They didn't enter my mind at all. None of them ever followed me either. Maybe they had a sixth sense: avoid the crazy bitches. I pulled off the interstate when I zoomed into the city limits. I drove through every well-lit street past fast food restaurants and bars that opened early and adult bookstores with yellow neon signs.

I thought about Eric. Eric Northman was the only man I knew in Shreveport, and I didn't know him that well. Still, he'd been kind to me. I decided to drive there, to get a drink, to calm my nerves. I checked the clock on the dash. It was only nine and the bar didn't open until ten. I knew it would be open though. Bill and I had been there at such an early hour before. I pulled into the parking lot and parked beside a pristine black 1970 Z28. It was a beautiful car, and I had seen it once before at a distance. The muscle car, with wide black leather seats, belonged to Eric. I watched the grey aluminum door for awhile. It never opened, never moved. Could I go in there? What would I say? Did Eric know that Bill and I had split up? I had no way of knowing unless I went inside. Part of me was afraid. If I went inside and talked to Eric, it could get back to Bill. What would Bill do to me if he knew I'd spoken to his boss? What did I even intend to tell Eric? Was I going to complain about Bill, ask for help? No. I didn't need anyone's help. I didn't want to owe anyone a favor, especially a vampire. Something had compelled me to come here. I'd wanted a drink, something soothing, but the bar wasn't open yet. You could have gone anywhere for a drink, Sookie. You came here because Eric Northman was nice to you. He knew you were having problems with Bill long before you took notice. He seems like a good man. But he's still a vampire. Hell, he's still a man.

I got out and walked up to the door. My hands were shaking when I knocked, the same special knock Bill had used, and the door opened. Pam, the blond vampire with the thin face, smiled at me.

"Sookie Stackhouse," she nodded her head. "Please come in."

"I wondered if I could…if Eric is here," I said in a wishy-washy sort of way. I wasn't used to asking for things I wanted or needed.

"Wait here," Pam said. "I'll see if he's available."

I stood silently in the entrance, just in front of the door. My mind raced back to the thoughts in the car. If I stood here and talked to Eric, I'd have to come up with things to say. I could thank him for making me realize that Bill was wrong for me, but I hadn't realized those things until long after Eric had mentioned them. I could tell him that I'd broken up with Bill, but he probably already knew. I could tell him I was just in the area and wanted to come by for a visit. That would almost work. It sounded almost solid. But there was that lingering feeling again. What if this visit got back to Bill somehow? Would he be angry with me? Would he come to the house? I tried not to think about how much his yelling at me had an effect on me. He could still order me around, I had no doubt in my mind. If I screamed at him, I could block him out, but that was the only way. I wasn't even sure I had the strength to do it. I'd told him no once before. But could I do it again? I'd gotten myself so mixed up in Bill. I was afraid to put myself back in that position again.

Eric walked toward me. His long blond hair was down, hanging around his shoulders, falling smoothly down his back. He had a small smile on his lips as he came sauntering down the hall. He looked confident, perhaps even pleased to see me. His blue eyes flashed. He was wearing a white tee shirt, taunt around the pectorals and biceps, and blue jeans, also tight. He was a well-sculpted man, a beautiful creature. I bit my lip. I grabbed for the door knob behind me and I ran out the door.

I started the car. The back door open and Eric stepped out into the parking lot. He looked angelic, illuminated under the security lamp. I gunned the engine and peeled out of the lot, racing down the street. All I could think of was Bill, what Bill would do to me if he knew I'd been here. He'd know. Somehow he'd just know. I couldn't think about anything else. He was a plague in my mind, a disease under my skin. I felt sick, like I was going to have to pull over and throw up. I didn't even see the stop sign. I lunged through it. The oncoming car obviously didn't see me. He pulled forward and we hit with a loud, screeching crunch of metal.

I jumped forward, aware that I'd forgotten to buckle my seat belt. My chest slammed heavily against the steering wheel and I smacked my forehead on the windshield. It cracked under the force. As soon as I'd rocked forward, I fell sideways. The driver's side door held fast, catching me as I nailed it with my arm, my elbow. I knew I was screaming in pain, but I couldn't hear myself. I watched the other driver get out of his car. He was a big man with dark brown hair and tan skin. He raised his fists and gestured at the wrecked front of his vehicle. He was screaming at me, his face red and sweaty. I saw Bill's features in his face, the curled lip, the fangs, the piercing, drilling blue eyes that dug right into me like claws. Every part of my body ached but all I could see was the driver, Bill Compton, raging and fuming like an animal in a trap. If he could have gotten any closer, he would have been in the car, wringing my neck, killing me.

The driver's side door popped open and I fell sideways, unable to catch hold of anything. I felt arms on my body and I whined in wordless protest. If he touched me, he could hurt me. I was already hurting, but it could always be worse. My head was damp and I reached up with my good arm to wipe it. I brought back blood. Not good. I looked up into the face of my rescuer, expecting to see Bill. Instead, I saw the steely blue eyes of Eric Northman. His mouth was turned down in a garish frown, and I could see in his eyes that his fangs were out, at least partially.

He lugged me into his arms, wrenching me out of the car. I really felt sick now, but I swallowed it down. I let him hold me, but I remained rigid, like a stone. I wasn't going to enjoy this, even if it was necessary. I don't know what Eric did to the driver, the Bill Compton lookalike, but his excessive yelling stopped. My rescuer dumped me, unceremoniously, into the backseat of his pretty black Z28. I yowled and stared up at the ceiling. It was like lush black carpeting.

I woke up in a sort of daze and the pain flew back to me like I'd been hit all over again. I tried to remember where I was, what had happened. I looked around and regretted it instantly. My neck and back were more than sore, they were on fire. I felt a hand on my face and I flinched.

"Sookie," Eric murmured. I tried to see him out of the corner of my eye. I caught only a flash of blond hair. "It's Eric. You're going to be okay."

"I need to go," I whimpered. I wasn't safe here, not when I was incapable of even turning my head.

"Not yet," he said softly. He sounded like he was walking farther and farther away. He held his forearm up in front of my face so I could see it. Blood dripped from two holes in his wrist.

"Drink this," he said so quietly I barely heard him. He pressed his arm to my mouth. I couldn't. I couldn't drink him the way Bill had…tasted me. I shook my head, but it was an intense and stupid gesture. The whole room began to swim.

"Please Sookie," Eric whispered. I felt his mouth on my throbbing head. He was kissing me. Why was he kissing me? "Please drink it."

He wasn't telling me. He was asking me. Vaguely, I recalled what he'd told me about vampire blood. It did strange things to humans. It was magic. I licked his arm tentatively. I don't know what I expected it to taste like, but it was definitely the rusty penny-taste of regular old blood. I ingested more of it. As soon as I got over the taste, I was hungry for it. But at the same time, I was weak and so tired. I pulled away and let it dribble over my lips and down my chin. Eric pulled his arm away. I closed my eyes again.

I woke up again feeling better, even though I wasn't a hundred percent. If my arm had been broken before, which I suspected it was, it was only sore now. Where I'd cracked my head on the windshield, there was only a scab under my bangs. I could taste dried blood on my lips. I turned over and found myself lying beside Eric Northman. He was awake, which meant it was still dark outside. I hadn't been out for too long. His arm was draped around me, and he was looking at me intently. The look on his face? I didn't know for sure, but it looked like he was trying to figure me out.

"You taste different," Eric said quietly, partially lost in thought. He tucked me against his chest. I allowed it for a moment, a moment when I forgot everything that touch meant, that it could mean.

"You tasted me?" I blinked.

"You tasted me first," he chuckled.

"The car…my car…" I sat up. Eric's arm cupped my spine. I rolled off the bed he'd apparently laid me out on. There was blood on the sheets, my blood. Eric sat up. He was naked from the waist up. I shuddered where he touched me. I backed up against the wall and reached for the bloody mass of clothes he'd apparently stripped from me. This scenario was getting more and more troubling by the second.

"It's out front. It's not in the best shape, but it'll get you where you need to go." Eric frowned. He got up from the bed and came around it to stand in front of me.

"Why did you come to see me?" He reached for me again. I ducked out of the way and backed toward the door. This was all getting to be too much. Bill would definitely know I was here now. He'd know, and he'd be angry.

"I have to go." I breathed. I yanked open the bedroom door. It flew open and slammed into the wall. I squinted when it made a loud banging noise.

"Sookie," Eric reached out to take my arm but I yanked it away from his outstretched hand. I stumbled down the staircase to the front door. I didn't turn around, but I knew he was watching me. People are always watching me these days.


	14. Chapter 14

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 14_

I drove home as fast as I'd driven into Shreveport. My car, half wrecked, made it home in one piece, much to my surprise. I'd have to get it fixed now. I wondered what Eric had said to the driver of the other car. Had he given him my insurance card? The accident was my fault. I sighed and pulled down the gravel driveway. Every single light I had left on was still on. I made to turn to the backside of the house until I saw someone standing on my porch. In the light that burst from my front windows, I could see that it was Eric Northman. I'd driven at least seventy on the interstate and yet here he was, ahead of me. His car wasn't even in the driveway. I pulled down in front of the house and got out. Walking up the porch steps was a chore, and when I finally got to the top, I instinctively turned around. There he was-my nightmare in shining armor. Bill Compton was standing on the lawn again, watching me. And now he was watching Eric too.

"How did you get here?" I asked. I didn't turn to face him. I couldn't look away from the man across the grass.

"I flew," Eric said simply. Okay, that was cause to turn and blink at him. I leaned heavily on the porch railing.

"You flew…" I frowned. "You can fly?"

"Yes. All vampires have an unusual ability. I can fly."

"Oh. I didn't know that." I wondered if my speaking was as bewildered as the rest of me. It was getting late, and although I'd never really minded that before, it was catching up to me now. I turned back to look across the lawn again. Had he gotten closer? He looked bigger.

"Sookie, tell me why you came to visit me," Eric was saying. He was definitely walking toward us now. Every few seconds, he got bigger, more imposing. I shrank back toward the door. I felt Eric's arms on me and I shrieked.

"Go inside the house, Sookie," Eric sighed. He still had his hands on me.

"Don't tell me what to do," I hissed. But it was a good suggestion. I opened the screen door, never taking my eyes off Bill. I fiddled with the lock, checking over my shoulder every couple of seconds. I finally got it open and jumped inside the threshold.

"Eric, you can come in," I said softly. He turned and looked at me. Then he walked into the house and slammed the door behind us. I didn't know how close Bill was by now, but I'm sure the door slamming helped a little.

I sat down on the floral sofa and leaned back into the cushions. My body was tired though most of the wreck wasn't visible on my skin. Eric's blood really was magic, and it had done wonders on my body in a matter of hours. Across from me, Eric bent down over the fireplace and arranged a few of the logs Jason had cut during the wake. It wasn't cold out, but I appreciated the gesture for what it was worth. Fireplace fires are comforting more than they're warm. I looked into the blossoming flames and in them, I found a little bit of peace.

Eric walked over to me with an afghan from the back of the easy chair. He held it out to wrap around me but I shrugged him away. I didn't want to be touched. Touching meant closeness, and closeness meant danger. It was obvious that I couldn't protect myself. I couldn't let anyone in. Eric sat down, reluctantly, on the easy chair, a few feet away from me. He leaned forward, his elbows balanced on his knees. He'd pulled his hair back into a braid, tied with black string. He was fully dressed again, in a clean white shirt and clean blue jeans. He looked like he'd never been covered in my blood and grossness. He looked surprisingly calm.

"Sookie," he said. His voice was deep and dark and his chest rumbled with it. "Tell me what's going on with Bill," So he didn't know. He didn't know we'd broken up and he didn't know what had happened before. I took a deep breath. How much was I willing to tell him? I didn't want to let him in. Hell, I didn't want to let anyone in. I was ashamed of myself, of what I'd let happen to me. I couldn't tell anyone about that.

"We just broke up is all," I said quietly. "Things just didn't work out. It happens."

"I see," Eric said. He got up off the easy chair and moved to me. He held out his arms to embrace me, but I pulled away.

"I don't…please don't touch me."

"I've known Bill for most of his life as a vampire, Sookie. You are not the first and you will not be the last." Eric frowned. "I never cared this much about his… women… before. But you intrigue me. You make me want to help you, to care for you." His brows creased and furrowed. He looked concerned and confused. I pulled a pillow against my chest so I would have something to hold onto. I couldn't care about Bill's other exploits. I was on my own.

"I wish I could do more for you, Sookie," Eric said. He sat down again, leaned forward again. "It's obvious you're…"

"I'm fine," I said abruptly.

"Right," he grunted. Eric got to his feet suddenly. He crouched in front of me, closer than I wanted him. He put a hand on my arm and I snapped it away. His features seemed to crumble in on themselves. "You're fine."

"I am." I said, my voice laced with a kind of strict confidence that I didn't really possess. I was fine. I am fine. If everyone would just leave me alone, I'd be fucking great.

"I must go. The sun will be up soon, and I have more errands to see to," Eric sounded reluctant. He stood up, and the frame of his body blocked the fireplace from my view. He walked to the door to let himself out, but first, he turned to look back at me.

"I will see you again, Sookie. I want to see you again."

I fell asleep on the sofa cushions, my arms still wrapped around one of the frilly pillows. Sun streamed in through slats in the blinds, smacking me in the face. I didn't have to work today, and that meant I was alone in the house, for hours. I got up, sore and tired, and walked to the door. Gran always loved to spend her early mornings sitting on the porch swing, listening to the birds singing. I usually had to work, but today, I had time to dilly dally. Tucked into the frame of the screen door, I found a small white slip of paper. I pulled it free and sat down on the swing. As I rocked, I opened each fold.

"Sookie," I read aloud. "I've taken the liberty of remedying your situation. I hope to see you again when you're feeling better. Please call me if you have any problems. Eric." His phone number was inscribed at the bottom of the slip. He had beautiful handwriting, a sprawling script that probably would have revealed a lot to some sort of analyst. I tucked the note in my pocket and looked across the yard. Bill's car was sitting in his driveway. The lights were out. He was sleeping. I wondered what Eric meant. How had he "remedied" my situation? What was my situation? My clunker car was still sitting in the driveway. I'd have to call Jason to see what he could do with it, maybe take it to the shop. That was the only situation I could think of, the only thing that could be fixed in any real way.

I spent the day cleaning the house. Jason came over in the afternoon to look at my car, and to ask me how I'd gotten home without so much as a scratch on me. I told him I was just lucky. He didn't buy it. My brother is a lunkhead, but he's not _that _stupid. He sat with me and had lunch. I didn't hug him when he left. Amelia came over with Sam. We had supper on the back porch, fried chicken with potatoes and fresh green beans. We talked about work mostly, because we didn't have much else in common. Sam took a look at my car, asked the same questions. I gave him the same answers, and he didn't buy them either. When night fell, they left for a movie.

I curled up on my sofa to watch television, but instead fell asleep. I must've been out for only a few hours because I woke up rather easily, rather suddenly, to a vicious pounding on my front door. I scrambled to my feet, my pillow clutched tightly against my chest. How I wished to God for a peep hole right now. The knocking seemed to get successively louder. I ran to the window closest to the door and stared out, craning my neck to see the visitor. It was Bill. He looked madder than a possum in a rat trap. I picked up my phone to call the police. But what on earth were the police going to do to a vampire, exactly? Yell at him some? Threaten him with a jail cell? Give me a break. I wiggled the slip of paper out of my pocket and looked down at Eric Northman's cellular number. He'd told me to call if I had any problems.

I didn't want to rely on him. I didn't want to rely on anyone. I could take my problems and shove them away and no one would be the wiser. I wasn't going to let anyone control my life but me, and I knew if I called Eric now, I'd be in that same cycle again. I looked at the door. It was actually shaking, rattling with Bill's pounding fist. But he couldn't come in. He couldn't walk over that threshold and hurt me. I put my hand on the doorknob and turned it, slowly. I pulled it open and stepped way back. The screen door still separated us.

His face was contorted with anger. I'd so rarely seen him this pissed off. He'd looked like this the night in the parking lot, the last night we were together. The look on his face sent shivers down my spine. I had to keep my fists tight in my pockets so I could hold myself together. Composure, Sookie, it's all about composure. You can do this. You can face him.

"What was Eric doing here last night?" Bill demanded. He practically spit the words at me. I felt my confidence spill into my shoes.

"Nothing," I lied. "Visiting."

"You're a shitty liar, Sookie Stackhouse. What was he doing here? Tell me!"

He didn't have a right to ask. He didn't have any rights anymore. He wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't my keeper. He didn't even love me. But none of that mattered right now. I felt compelled to answer him.

"I was in a car accident. He came to see if I was okay."

"Are you okay?" Bill softened. His face unworked itself and he frowned. He looked genuinely upset, like he actually cared.

"What do you care?" I yelled at him. I found my voice, tucked away somewhere in my socks. "You don't care about me! You told me that yourself!"

"I don't have to love you to care about you, Sookie!" He was yelling again. "You were a terrible submissive, pathetic and disobedient, but I still care about you!"

Yeesh, talk about the world's best backhanded compliment.

"He's sending me away, Sookie. I'm going on assignment. I won't be here to keep an eye on you. You're on your own. He did this for you, you stupid fool. You'll be unprotected now. You won't be safe."

"I wasn't safe with you!" I screamed, and now I was crying. Oh great. Way to be tough there, Sookie. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I couldn't hold them back. I got closer to the screen door. I thought about everything he'd done to me, everything I'd ever let him do. I thought about all the times I'd never said no. I drew back every ounce of saliva I could find and I spit. A lot of it went flying through the holes in the screen and into his face. I took hold of the doorknob and slammed the door shut. I locked all the locks.

I sank down onto the floor and wiped my mouth with my forearm. This was what Eric had meant. My situation was remedied. I was alone now. No Bill Compton watching my every move, waiting for me to come out at night. He was finally leaving, maybe forever. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the door. I could finally feel safe again.


	15. Chapter 15

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 15_

_

* * *

__Daylight burns your sleepy eyes, it's hard to see you dreaming. You hide inside yourself and I wonder what you're thinking._

Goo Goo Dolls, "All Eyes on Me"

* * *

When he left, I expected things to get better, and they did. Sort of. Six months passed, and in that time I remembered what life was like outside, after dark. I'd catch myself staring at the big empty house across the lawn. Weeds grew up around the enclosed porch, and between the rocks on the gravel driveway. Bill had taken his car with him, so even when I forgot that he'd left, I could imagine he was gone for the evening. I did come to feel safer without him there, but there were still nightmares sometimes. I'd wake up screaming and I'd realize everything was okay. Sleep came easier knowing he couldn't possibly be out there, watching me, waiting for me. But even though Bill was gone, I was still living inside the bubble of protection I'd created for myself. I couldn't break out of it, and I couldn't get free of it. Part of me wasn't ready to be outside that bubble. It was dangerous out there.

Amelia and I became closer friends, and so it was no surprise when she knocked quietly on the back door and came in out of the blustery cold February weather. She shook out her jacket and hung it on the hook beside the door. She took off her scarf and her gloves, stuffed them into the pockets of her coat. She shook snowflakes from her hair and yelled to me as I walked out of the hall. I'd started sleeping in Gran's room, with the adjoining bathroom, so it was harder to hear a new visitor. Since I was always on alert, that fact made me a little nervous.

"Sookie!" Amelia called. She gave me a little bang on the wall so I'd definitely hear her. Amelia was thoughtful that way. I scooped up my hair in a towel, flung myself into some sweat pants and a thermal shirt, and walked out of the room to meet her. She smiled at me and we walked into the living room. Amelia had brought a slightly lumpy but still delicious looking batch of brownies. Tonight was our girls night in, away from Amelia's boyfriend and our boss, Sam. I didn't have any men to escape from, but I preferred it that way.

"So, I brought _Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights _and _She's the Man._ What are you in the mood for?" Amelia grabbed a brownie off the plate, but I playfully slapped her fingers. I had dinner in the oven, a good ol' casserole from Gran's recipe box.

"Um, how about _She's the Man_? I could use a good comedy." I shrugged my shoulders and went to check on the food. "Don't go eating those brownies now! I can read your thoughts!"

"Yeah yeah," Amelia smirked. She got up off the sofa to put the movie in. I yanked the casserole dish out of the oven and set it carefully on the stovetop. Then I pulled a baggie of frozen winter squash out of the microwave.

We ate contentedly while we watched the movie. Amelia paused the DVD when it was time to clean up the dishes, and I emptied the washer while she scraped the plates into the garbage disposal.

"So I have some news," Amelia said, closing the lid on a Tupperware container.

"Oh? What?" I asked, trying not to dig into her head so I knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"Sam and I have started talking about getting married," Amelia beamed. I dropped a plate. It careened toward the floor and smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. It was one of Gran's everyday china plates, and I stared at the slivers of ceramic, horrified. I bent down and started scooping up the pieces with my bare hands. Amelia pushed the dishwasher door shut and bent down to help me, armed with a plastic grocery bag and a dish rag.

We cleaned up the plate bits together. The dish wasn't salvageable. I didn't know if they made that pattern anymore, but I was determined to go out to the stores in Shreveport on my next day off so I could look for it. It felt like a little piece of that ceramic was poking me in the heart. My body was wracked by a thousand different emotions. I had somehow disrespected Gran's memory by breaking her plate. I was distraught that Amelia was putting so much faith in a relationship that was not yet a year old. I had made a huge mess on the floor and that made me, instantly, think of Bill punishing me for doing it. I'd bend down on my knees at his feet and beg his forgiveness. He'd usually find some physical way of taking my penance out on me. But the guilt was the hardest thing. I'd spend days trying to make up for the loss of a single dish, or an unmade bed, or a tear in the upholstery, or any other tiny transgression.

"Sookie, hon, you're crying," Amelia frowned. "It's really okay. It's just a plate."

"I can't…" I whimpered. I grabbed a paper towel off the roll and held it against my wet cheeks. I had a few cuts on my fingers and the few drops of blood made an even bigger mess. I blew my nose and wiped my face. I splashed water on my hands and eyes. I sucked it up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to break down like that." I grunted, straight-faced. I looked down at the broken plate bits in the bag. Fuck. If I kept doing this to myself, I'd never stop crying.

"It's too soon," I said to Amelia as soon as I'd regained my composure.

"Oh Sookie, he isn't like Bill. Sam's a good man. You know that!"

"Doesn't matter. It's too soon to be making such a huge commitment."

"Sookie, he hasn't given me a ring or anything. We're just talking about it."

"He's just going to hurt you. I've been through it, okay? I know what I'm talking about. Just don't do anything you're going to regret." I made that my final say on the subject.

Amelia and I went back to our movie. We sat in absolute silence, but I knew what Amelia was thinking. She was worried about me, about my reaction. She'd never seen me cry before, not really, and it scared her. She was thinking about buying me a new plate. She thought about putting bandaids on my cut fingers. She wanted, no, she ached to hug me. Instead, we gorged ourselves on brownies. When the movie was over, the snow was coming down pretty hard. I asked Amelia to spend the night in my old bedroom, and she agreed. She spent twenty minutes on her cellular, talking to Sam.

At work, things weren't much better. I drove Amelia to her house to change, and then we showed up at the bar on a Saturday afternoon together. Arlene had the mid-shift, and it was obvious she'd been crying. Amelia touched her shoulder and asked her what was wrong. I stood awkwardly next to the two of them, my hands stuffed in the pockets of my coat. The three of us lingered in the hall in front of Sam's office. Beyond us, I heard the familiar sounds of a busy bar on a cold February day.

"Rene broke up with me," Arlene sobbed into her apron. Her shoulders heaved and she moved to bury herself in my shoulder. I pulled back, pressing myself against the opposite wall. Amelia took up the reins and pulled Arlene into her arms.

"I'm sorry, Arlene," I frowned. I just knew that was going to happen. He was going to give her some great times, and then he was going to treat her like shit. A cold shiver rolled down my spine. I wanted to give Rene what-for, hurt him the way he had hurt Arlene. I imagined myself standing in front of him, both fists raised, punching and punching until he begged me to stop. I'd never have the guts for it, but I wanted to do it all the same.

"Sookie," Arlene whimpered. She pressed her snotty nose against my shoulder. She buried herself against me. The room closed in on me like a coffin. Everything was too close and there was no way out. I was claustrophobic and I never had been before. Oh God, Arlene, get off of me. Please, I don't know what to do for you. I don't know what to say. I can't help you. Please get OFF of me! I backed up and made a run for it. I hid in the employee bathroom. I crouched on the floor and stared at the identical blue tiles. I didn't cry.

Days at work weren't usually this hard, but then, my world stayed pretty normal these days. I came out of the bathroom when Amelia came knocking.

"Arlene just went home. Everything okay with you?"

"I'm fine," I said briefly.

"Okay. Well, I need your help if you're ready to come out and work. Things are crazy busy in there, you know?" Amelia stuck her thumb out and gestured to the bar.

"Yeah. I'm coming," I nodded.

We walked out to the restaurant in single file. Sam was behind the bar, mixing drinks and pouring beers. Lafayette was working in the kitchen, his head buried in steam and smoke coming off the grill. The tables were packed with people, and I could see my brother, Jason, and his friend Hoyt among them. They waved at me. Amelia and I split up the tables and went to work. I plastered on my big fake smile and grabbed a tray off the bar. I bounced from one table to the next, taking orders and delivering food and drinks. Jason ordered the biggest hamburger we sold, and Hoyt decided on chicken strips. I saw Andy Bellefleur, the town detective, in Amelia's section. He scowled at me and I stuck out my tongue, in a cutesy sort of way, back at him.

Working at Merlotte's is a pretty okay job. I've worked there for a few years now and I recognize most of the customers. We get a fair few regulars because, hey, Bon Temps is a pretty small town. However, since we're close to the interstate, we get our share of unusual characters and out-of-towners too. Things were going well for me that night until I let my guard down. I shouldn't have. I wouldn't have if I hadn't gotten distracted by the girl sitting on my brother's knee, laying on the charm. I wanted to know what she was about, what her plans were for my brother. I didn't trust anybody these days, except maybe Amelia, and I certainly didn't trust anyone putting the moves on members of my entirely too small family. I caught his thoughts on the wind, it seemed like. I didn't notice they were coming from him until he made his own move on my personal space.

_Hoo boy, look at that ass. I'd tap that. I'd tap that so hard she'd fall on her knees and beg me to stop. Shit, I wouldn't be able to. Man I'd just have to keep goin until the wind fell outta my sails. Damn. That is one hot piece of sumthin good. She'd keep me warm on these crazy cold night. Wow. Fuck me a lady tonight. _

He stuck out his hand and placed it on my backside. I turned. I turned so fast it would've made his head spin. I lifted up my tray and brought it down, right across his face. I'm not a strong woman, but he was leaning back in his chair, the sonofabitch. He fell right backwards onto the floor. His nose was actually bleeding a little. Behind the bar, Sam had picked up his baseball bat. He was swinging his lean figure over the counter and coming to my rescue. I didn't need him. I didn't need anyone. But fuck if I wasn't about to cry. I ran from the bar as fast as I could go. I hid myself in the employee bathroom again, just because it was too cold to go outside.

"Sookie?" Amelia called through the door. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," I whispered through my tears. I wasn't going to let anyone see me cry. I wasn't weak little Sookie Stackhouse anymore. I was tough. I'd just proved it.

"Sookie, let me in."

"Not now."

"Please Sook," Amelia pleaded. She tried the knob but I'd locked it. "Come on Sookie, Sam kicked that man out. He's gone."

"I can't right now." I sighed. My lips quivered.

"Sookie, you did really well," Amelia said. "You really did."

In six months, I'd said goodbye to Bill Compton. I'd shut the door on that part of my life, that crazy, horrible section of my life. But I was still living it. I was still afraid and I was still trying to prove myself. I wasn't ever going to let a man like that back into my life again, and I was determined not to let him in to the lives of any of my friends either. The problem was, I'd gone from being completely open to completely shut. I'd cut myself off from everyone. I was alone in the world, and that seemed safer. I wanted to feel safe again.


	16. Chapter 16

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 16_

I hadn't seen Eric Northman since the car wreck, so I was surprised when his name showed up on the caller ID. I was running into the house when it rang, out of the sticky sleet that marked a typical evening in early March. I glanced at the ID on the phone, stared hard at it, then yanked the cordless off the hook and touched it to my ear.

"This is Sookie," I said tentatively into the receiver.

"Oh good," said a female voice. Hm. "This is Pam. Hold on please." There was some shuffling, and I could hear music in the background. I assumed that Pam, the pretty blond vampire with the thin face, was at Fangtasia. I looked at the clock over the kitchen sink. It was just past seven in the evening. The sun had been down for an hour, but it seemed awfully early to be at work.

"Sookie," Eric said into the phone. If I'd expected him to be awkward communicating via telephone, I was pleasantly surprised. He sounded natural, his voice as deep and rumbling as it was in person. "Do you have some free time to meet with me this evening?"

I had the night off, since I'd worked the day shift at the bar. I'd made plans to go to a late movie with Amelia, a silly romantic comedy, but it didn't start until ten. The only plans I had for the next three hours were to make dinner and dig into _Bridget Jones' Diary_ while sitting on my sofa.

"I have a few hours to kill," I said. I gathered he needed me for some work, and hey, I could probably get something out of it. If nothing else, I could stop by the Mexican restaurant on my way to the bar and grab something to eat. It would give me an excuse to avoid cooking.

"Good. I will come to you, then, if that's okay." Hm, well, I hadn't expected that. I didn't have any blood in the fridge, so I'd need to go out and get some. Boy, it had been a long time since I'd needed to buy any. That gave me a weird sort of feeling. I agreed, asking Eric to drive out to Bon Temps. He laughed and said he'd see me in a little over an hour.

Because I had to go back out anyway to buy blood (what kind did he like?), I decided to pick up some food while I was out. It was snowing by the time I dropped the phone back in its cradle, pulled on my coat, mittens, and scarf, and trudged out to the car. I stopped at the convenience store for blood and decided to mix up the carton. I put in an A+, an O+, an O-, and an AB+. I also bought a Three Musketeers candy bar, because they're my favorite. From the store, I made an eenie-meenie decision and decided on Chinese food. I parked as close to the restaurant as I could manage without getting a ticket, and I ran inside. Even though it was March, it was bitterly cold outside and snow was coming down in sheets. I swore under my breath and popped inside the only decent Chinese restaurant in Bon Temps.

Qin, the proprietor, smiled at me and handed me a takeout menu. I labored over the decision and finally decided on Sesame Chicken, white rice, and spring rolls. The food was ready quickly, but I still had a little bowl of hot wonton soup while I waited. Qin packed up my food in little white folding boxes and I dashed back toward the door again. She yelled for me to stop and touched my shoulder. I flinched, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she pushed a thermos of hot green tea into my hands. I couldn't refuse her. If I'd been a more open person, the girl I used to be, I would have wrapped her up in a big bear hug. As it was though, I simply gave her a smile, pushed open the door, and waddled back to the car.

I got back to the house and rustled my way inside, kicking snow off my shoes as soon as I got inside the closed-in back porch. I dumped the bags on the kitchen table, stuck the blood in the fridge, and dug a plate, spoon, and fork out of their appropriate cabinets and drawers. I went back to the door to hang up my coat when there was a knock on the front door. Had it been an hour already? I glanced at the clock in the kitchen on my way to answer the door. It was only a minute past eight. Wow, that was fast. I pulled open the door and was pushed backward by a big gust of wind. There was Eric, all six foot and some change of him. His loose hair was flying around his face, and his pale cheeks was rosy from the cold. He opened the screen door.

"Gosh, that was fast!" I squeaked. "Please come in." I wanted to add that he'd catch his death out there, but of course, he was already dead, technically speaking. I pushed the door shut again, with effort, and locked the dead bolt. Good grief, what a night.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I asked, already making my way toward the kitchen. Eric followed me. He took off his coat and peeked over my shoulder into the fridge. Boy, he was close. I stiffened and moved out of the way.

"Oh, you bought blood," Eric said, clearly surprised. Apparently he knew as well as I did that I rarely had (and by rarely, I mean never) guests to buy blood for. "AB positive sounds nice. I'll take that."

I stuck the bottle in the microwave, turned it on for thirty seconds, and stood awkwardly in front of it. Eric moved to the hook on the door and hung up his coat. I smacked my forehead while he wasn't looking. I was so bad with my manners these days. I never had people over, except Amelia, and she was more like family than a guest. Gran had raised me to offer drinks, take coats and other outerwear accessories, and offer a seat. Boy, I was so out of practice. I grabbed the bottle from the microwave and handed it to Eric. He was looking at my Chinese food on the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He spoke quietly but with that same deep voice. "You were just about to eat."

"It's okay. I can reheat it later," I shrugged. I was hungry, but it's rude to eat in front of people. I'm sure it's an even bigger faux pas when the person you're eating in front of doesn't actually eat.

"No, please. Sit and eat. We can discuss our business at the table." Eric nodded me toward the kitchen table and I sat down. I curled my legs up under me, more because I felt safer tucked into a big ball. I didn't usually sit at the table that way, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Eric sat in the chair across from me. He sipped thoughtfully from his bottle.

"So," I started. I cut a piece of chicken in half. "What's up?"

"I haven't seen you in some time, Sookie. After I arranged to have Bill sent away… I gathered you would want to be alone."

I munched on my chicken and didn't say anything. What do you say to something like that? I didn't even look at Eric, but at the plate. I'd eat some spring roll next, and then take a sip of my tea while it was still hot. Did Eric want to see me, like "see me" see me? I had no idea. I didn't want to see anyone, not like that. I wasn't ready for another relationship. Hell, if I could avoid relationships for the rest of my life, I was more than willing to do so. I missed the sex part, but only the good sex, and I didn't really have a lot of memories of it. I missed the orgasms too, what I could remember of them. I hadn't had a single one in about a year. I just couldn't, not without Bill's okay.

"Well, I came over tonight because I need your ability. I am going to a conference in New York for a week. There will be humans there, some of them my business associates. In my line of work, you can't trust anyone. I'd like you to accompany me, do some poking around, see what you can dig up."

"Um, oh," I said. Wow. New York. We never had a lot of money growing up. I've been to a couple places. I've seen most of Louisiana, a little bit of Southeastern Texas, some of Arkansas, but that's all really. I'd never been north of the Mason-Dixon Line before.

"Because it is a business trip, I will cover the cost of your expenses. You'll need business attire, a few evening dresses, a hotel room. I will cover that. I will set you up with an account and a credit card. I will also cover the cost of the flight, any meals you eat while in New York, that sort of thing. Further, I will pay you for your work, double what you earn at the bar in a week's time. It is a good deal, Sookie." He spoke slowly and confidently. He didn't sound like he was desperate to have me, like he was making a deal I couldn't refuse. But on the other hand, he obviously needed me for the work. I put another bite of chicken in my mouth. I thought it over. New York, wow. I was nervous, of course. Being that far from home for so long could be dangerous, as dangerous as stepping out of my bubble of safety.

"I won't leave you alone while we're there, Sookie. I'll keep you safe." He pushed away the empty bottle of blood. He didn't get up, but I could see in his posture that he wanted to. If I could have read his thoughts, I'm sure I would have known that he wanted to reach out to me, to touch me, maybe to embrace me. He had a concerned look in his deep blue eyes. He'd shown that concern for me before. He'd never been anything but kind to me.

"I have to call Sam and tell him. If he says he can't miss me, I'll have to turn you down."

"I understand," Eric nodded.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Good." Eric got up. He moved to the side of the table and pushed his chair back in. He picked up his empty bottle and cleaned it in the sink. He left it on the windowsill so I could recycle it. Then he returned to me. I got up, but I felt like I was still sitting down. He was so very tall.

"I look forward to hearing from you, Sookie," he smiled. I know he thought about touching my face, the same way he'd cradled my cheek the first time we met. I was glad he had the sense to know I wouldn't enjoy it. He nodded his head slightly instead, and showed himself out.

I sat back down at the table and finished my supper. Wow. New York City. I'd never been, and wouldn't it be neat to see the city and get paid, plus expenses? It would be more than neat. Amelia would be pea green with envy. I could send her a postcard! I could actually send postcards and have a reason to do it! For once, just once, I didn't have to think about Bill nightmares or running into him or randomly expecting him to be there, waiting for me. I would be free of all the memories of my crappy relationship. I could think about other things, like seeing the Statue of Liberty, or riding on the subway! Boy, I hoped those stories about muggings weren't true…

I was so excited about the possibility of the trip that I called Sam at home. Amelia answered the phone, and I wasn't too surprised by that. I asked to talk to Sam, and he told me it was just fine. He sounded a little worried about Eric, but I assured him that I would be okay. I was a smart girl. I'd get a separate room and I'd be sure to carry mace in my purse. I didn't trust anyone, but I was stronger now. I was in control. No one was going to hurt me. I didn't get the vibe that Eric wanted to hurt me, but you can never be too careful. I would have to keep my guard up at all times.

I called Eric that very night and he answered on the first ring. He sounded happy when I told him I would go, and he said he'd call with my travel arrangements the following day. He also wanted to drop off some paperwork and an expense account credit card, so I asked him to leave them in the mail box. When Amelia came over, we decided to skip the movie theater and watch _Sex in the City _instead.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Thank you to everyone that kept up with the plethora of chapters I posted this weekend! I don't know what came over me, but I was compelled to bring Sookie into the light. I hope that Chapter 17 puts a smile on your faces. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you at Chapter 18! _

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**It's About Power**

_Chapter 17_

I met Aaron, Eric's day man, when he came to the house to pick me up at four in the afternoon on a cold and damp day one week later. Aaron was about six feet tall, shorter than Eric, but taller than Bill or Sam. He had a crop of styled black hair sprouting from his head, a few strands of which dipped down over his forehead. His green eyes danced like sprites, and his mouth twitched into a smile as soon as he saw me. He took my bags, both of them, and carried them around to the trunk of a pretty blue Cadillac.

"Howdy," he greeted me cheerfully. He took my hand and shook it firmly. I looked back in the house to make sure I'd taken care of everything. I locked the door and stuck my keys in my purse. Amelia had agreed to bring in my mail and newspaper while I was gone, and I, in turn, agreed to send her a post card and call her at least twice when I wasn't having too much fun.

"Mr. Northman told me you're a little iffy about personal space, so if I get to be a bother, you just tell me, alright?" Aaron was bubbly, and I could tell, straight away, that he was a little light in the loafers. That didn't bother me any, I assure you. It's just something you notice about a person, same as their eye color or the way they style their hair. Aaron was gay and effeminate too. At the same time, though, he was a tall and muscular man.

"Sure," I agreed. So Eric had noticed and was sure to mention it to Aaron. I found that interesting. I dug into my purse and pulled out my confirmation information. We were leaving from the Shreveport Regional Airport at seven o'clock. According to my itinerary, we were flying to Atlanta, changing planes, and then hopping on a second plane to get to JFK Airport in New York.

"Have you ever been to the Mandarin Oriental? I can't believe we're staying at such a nice place! I mean, sure, I've been traveling with Mr. Northman before, but usually we stay at four star places. Heck, he's just a man with a coffin, and I'm just his day guy. We're not trying to impress anybody, you know? I don't know. I heard the conference was at this hotel, so maybe that's why we're staying there. Am I talkin' too fast, sugar? You're awfully quiet."

"What?" I blinked. Honestly, I'd stopped paying attention. I didn't know anything about the hotel we'd be staying at. Heck, I'd never even heard of it. The only hotel I knew anything about was the Plaza, and only because Monica and Chandler wanted to have drinks there after they got engaged. Yes, I watched a lot of television after the big break-up. I could tell you that show's plot backwards and forwards.

"Sorry, I'll just shush up. I just love traveling. Usually I'm not such a busy body, but then, I don't always have such nice girls to talk to. It's just business, you know? Usually it's bills to pay and businessmen to deal with. None of them are too nice, and none of them are as pretty as you, if you don't mind me saying."

I would have blushed if I hadn't tuned out his incessant chatter. Aaron didn't even seem to notice that I wasn't paying attention. He kept right on talking, blathering about his life, his work for Eric, his various jobs, all that sort of thing. I closed my eyes until the car stopped. An hour had passed. I'd actually managed to sleep through the hour long drive.

Aaron took my bags (a hanging suit bag and a rolling suitcase) and his, and guided me to the check-in counter. I'd never been on a plane before, and I didn't know the first thing about flying. I could tell that the airline employee was frustrated with me. She tapped her fingers on the keyboard hidden behind the desk. I pulled out my driver's license and my confirmation sheet. I didn't have Eric's credit card, but she said that was okay. She didn't need it. It cost money to check my bags, but Aaron took care of it. He reached right past me and handed the woman about fifty dollars in cash. Color me impressed. I squirmed out of line and let Aaron check in too. He delivered our bags to the security folks, and we went to wait in the first class passenger line for a security check.

"We're flying first class?" I blinked and looked at my boarding pass. Yep, it definitely said first class. Wow. I was being spoiled.

"Yep. Mr. Northman made sure I knew you liked your elbow room. I reserved the extra seat next to you so you won't be crammed in next to somebody else. Have you flown before?"

"No, never," I shook my head.

"Well, planes are pretty cramped. I'm sitting in coach, but I'm in the first aisle behind your section. If you need anything, you just ring for the attendant, or you yell for me and I'll come visit you, okay?"

I didn't know what I'd need while we were in the air, but I nodded okay. When we reached the front of the line, I took off my shoes and coat and put them on the conveyer belt with my purse. I checked the pockets of my slacks twice before I walked under the metal detector. I passed through safety and stood at the other end. Aaron went through the scanner twice. He'd left his keys and some loose change in one of his pockets.

When we were finally through to the other side, free and clear in the terminal, I decided to buy a little snack for the plane. I waited in line at the bookstore with a magazine and a bag of chips while Aaron used the men's room. By the time we go to the terminal, they were getting ready to board first class passengers. I walked cautiously down the long tube that led to the plane. There was a little gap in the floor between the tube and the plane itself. I hopped over it, the way one hops over a crack in the sidewalk. I found my seat and curled into it. An attendant, pretty with dyed blond hair and brown eyes, asked me if I'd like anything. Wow. So this was first class, huh? I ordered a glass of ice water, and she brought it to me in a water glass with a stem. That was ritzy, right there.

The trip to Atlanta only lasted an hour. I stared out the window the entire time, never even cracking open the binding on my magazine. Even the clouds were fascinating. I tucked my chips into my bag when the attendant brought me a plate of sliced cheese, apples, and grapes. Oh, it was divine. I tried to think of a way to thank Eric when we got to New York. I almost considered hugging him. The thought of it sent shivers up my arms, but maybe he deserved it? I'd have to think about it, long and hard. That was a big step for me. It put me right out of my comfort zone. But this was all so incredible. Whatever I gave him, it would have to be something big.

In Atlanta, we changed planes. I was in first class again, the seat beside me empty. The new attendant, a petite woman with red hair named Susie, offered me two dinner options. I chose the chicken with pesto, and I had a glass of Coke with it, served in a real glass. That didn't seem particularly safe on an airplane, but I wasn't about to question it. I stretched out across my two seats while I ate. When I finished, I curled my head up against the leather seat back and took another nap.

I woke up when I heard the captain speaking over the intercom system. We were landing in New York City and I just had to see it. I pressed my face to the cool glass and stared out at the well-lit city skyline. Wow. I can't even describe how incredible it was. I'd never been to such a big city before. I was up North, in Yankee country. Gran would probably scream with delight, and probably be a little judgmental too. I watched as we descended and I felt a little seasick when he touched down on the runway. That definitely wasn't a feeling I would miss. I'd have to make sure I was asleep for any future landings. Yuck.

Aaron and I took a taxi from the airport after he collected our bags at the baggage claim. My heart was aflutter with excitement. I was Carrie Bradshaw, in a taxi cab in New York City! I even bounced a little on the leather seat. Aaron laughed at me. We both stared in awe at the great sweeping façade of the hotel. It was a contemporary building, not like some of the other skyscrapers in the city. Across the street, right there within walking distance, was Central Park. Wow. I got out of the cab and stared up at the two towers that held the rooms we'd be staying in. My knees wobbled a little. Here I was, in New York City, staying at a hotel that was literally a hundred feet away from Central Park. Aaron handed our bags to a bell hop and we darted inside, both of us squeaking with delight.

"Miss Stackhouse," the concierge nodded. She handed me a plastic card. "This is your key to the Taipan Suite on the 30th floor. Please, don't hesitate to call the operator. We are happy to assist you and Mr. Northman with anything you may require." I swallowed. What did she mean by that? I waited while Aaron got his own key and we followed the bellhop to the elevator. Aaron got off at the fifteenth floor and told me he'd see me in a few minutes. I kept riding up, up and up, to the 30th floor. I stepped off the elevator and the bellhop led me down the hall to one of six rooms on the entire floor. He knocked quietly on the door and waited. After a second, the door opened. Guess who was behind it? Just guess.

Yep. It was Eric Northman himself. He smiled at me and stepped to the side. I walked into the room, unsure of myself and unsure of Eric. The bellhop put my bags on the floor and left. The door clicked shut. I sat heavily down on a sofa cushion. Well okay then.

"It isn't what you think," Eric said immediately. He leaned one hand on the wall and opened a pair of French doors to a stand-alone bedroom. It had huge plate glass windows and an enormous bed with creamy brown linens. I got up off the sofa to look through the doors.

"This is your room, Sookie. I told you that while you were here, I wouldn't leave you alone. This is a very large and unusual place. I didn't want you to be frightened. This way, I'm close by if you need me. My room is on the other side of this suite." He pointed across the extensive living room to another set of doors. I took a deep breath. Trust, Sookie. Just trust him. He's been so sweet to you, so incredibly generous and kind. At least try to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But I could only give so much. I was still nervous.

I thought about the hug I'd considered on the plane. The flight had been part of that incredible generosity. He didn't need to keep my feelings in mind for the plane ride. I would have been okay in coach. Sure, I would have been nervous and uncomfortable, but I was working for him. I could have dealt with it. And I didn't need to be in this humungous suite with him either. I could have had a regular room in a much smaller hotel. That would have been okay. I didn't need all this. I didn't need to be treated this way. I could do it. And I knew he would appreciate it.

"Eric?" I whispered. Every ounce of my personal strength went into pushing myself into that embrace. I lost the will to speak, and I couldn't stop my knees from rattling against each other. I was channeling "the little engine that could." You can do this, Sookie. You can do this.

"Yes?" Eric asked. He looked down at me. His eyes were so clear, like looking up into the sky on a bright summer day. I could see everything for miles and miles, up into the atmosphere.

"Thank you," I said. My voice was so soft that I wasn't sure he heard me. I put my arms around him. He enveloped me like one of Gran's afghan blankets. I felt claustrophobic, trapped and constricted, but I let the hug take its course. He let go of me after several seconds. My body was stiff and sore from that stiffness. I was plainly and obviously uncomfortable. But Eric was giving me a hint of a smile.

"No, Sookie," he said gently. He touched my cheek, and though I flinched a little, I didn't pull away. "Thank you."


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Normally, I write Eric the way he's meant to be written-capable of emotion but colder, harsher. Feel free to read any of my earlier pieces to find that Eric, that CH Eric. He deserves to be written and he's rarely portrayed realistically (or as realistically as a fictional vampire can be). The Eric in this piece isn't CH's Eric. He's sappier and warmer and more comforting. There was no way around it. He couldn't be the same Eric because Sookie would never warm up to him, she'd never put trust in him. That said, I accept that this Eric is a softy. Believe me, I'm the last person that would make a softer, lighter vampire, but this particular brand of Viking vampire just had to be a little squishy around the edges. _

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**It's About Power**

_Chapter 18_

We stood that way, just close and quiet, in the suite for several seconds. Finally, I shook him off. His hand fell limply against his side and whatever moment we had just shared ended. Eric took his cellular phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time. He straightened his tie, adjusted the thin lapel of his jacket, and regarded me again. With one hand, he punched numbers into his phone. It sounds silly, but it was incredible seeing a man that had been clearly been on the Earth long before cellular phones were introduced (come to think of it, I had no idea how old he really was) as adept with technology as I was not.

"If you'll excuse me, Sookie, I have a meeting. Aaron will be outside the door if you have need of anything." He looked at me more closely, tilting his head just slightly. His eyes seemed to bore into me, but it wasn't a painful sort of gesture. I guess it was more like he was studying me. "Remember, I'm just a phone call away. I'll be in the hotel."

"I'll be okay," I said confidently. "No worries."

Eric picked up an attractive leather-covered briefcase from the coffee table and departed. I could see Aaron already standing by the door. He stuck his head in and waved to me before the door shut. Alone at last, I took a look around the enormous suite. The living room had six enormous floor to ceiling windows, a luxurious pin-striped cream-colored sofa and matching chairs, a coffee table with magazines and knick knacks, plus a matching side table pressed between the chairs, and a small dining table to boot. Through the windows, I could see the beautiful city, all lit up and brightly shining. Between the tops of some skyscrapers, around the bulk of others, I could see the dark mass of the Hudson River. I imagined it would look gorgeous in the daytime.

I slipped through the curtained French doors that separated my room from the main suite, and marveled at just how beautiful it was. My bed was gigantic, a king size monstrosity that looked absolutely cozy. It had a tan bedspread and an arrangement of those cylindrical pillows plus regular ones too. Through yet more floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the lights of the city and the darkness of the river. There were curtains to pull over the view but I couldn't imagine covering it. Across from the bed, there was a pretty desk, and I even had my own bathroom. It wasn't the largest bathroom in the world, but it had both a standing shower and a huge tub with jets. I couldn't help giggling.

After I unpacked and hung up the assortment of clothes I'd packed (most of them purchased for the trip), I snuggled into my sweatpants and a short sleeve shirt. I crawled up onto the bed, tossed the pillows onto the floor, and wiggled under the sheets. Oh gosh it was more than cozy. The sheets were incredibly soft and the bedspread was warm and comfy. I turned on the massive flat-screen television and curled up against two of the four regular rectangular pillows. I found _Generation Kill_ playing, marathon-style, on HBO and settled in to watch it. What can I say? Ray Person makes me laugh.

I don't know how Bill got there, but he was there. On the television screen, Brad and Ray were singing "Teenage Dirtbag," and there way Bill, standing over the bed. I screamed as he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me across the sheet. I grasped the bedspread, the pillows, anything to keep from being yanked, but nothing helped. I hit the floor with a loud _thunk_! His pants were down around his ankles and for the first time ever, in that position, I didn't give a rat's ass about his pleasure. I only wanted to escape. I had to escape. I thought about hurting him, biting him, but something seemed to be holding me back. I couldn't do anything but cry, beg him to stop.

"You wanted this, Sookie," he grinned at me. "You wanted all of this."

I woke up in tears to find hands still on me. Oh God, was it not a nightmare? Please tell me it wasn't really happening? I opened my eyes and shook my head. Maybe I shrieked or screamed, I couldn't be sure. Nothing seemed real and yet it all seemed very, very real. I squirmed out of the grip which suddenly loosened, much to my surprise. I looked up, panting. My throat was sore and my eyes stung. There, kneeling on the edge of my bed, was Eric Northman. I couldn't tell what that look was in his eyes. That was a recurring theme and it bothered me a little bit. He almost looked angry and worried and sad, all at the same time.

"You had a meeting," I breathed. I tried to push the dream out of my mind but it lingered like a hangover.

"That was two hours ago," Eric said. He pointed to the clock on the nightstand.

"So it's over then," I sighed. I tried to relax. Everything felt very shaky.

"Heh, yes, it's over." He sat down on my bed, but I kept my distance. "Look, I have an appointment at the spa for a massage. Would you like to join me? It's my treat."

"No," I shuddered. I tried not to imagine strange hands touching me. Definitely not what I would call a good time. "No, thank you."

"Well, there's a pool on the 36th floor. I understand it offers a beautiful view of the city. It's late, and I promise you that no one will be there to join you."

"So I'd be alone, then?" I asked.

"Well, mostly. I'll leave some security outside the entrance." Eric winked.

"Okay," I nodded.

I dug my bathing suit, a two-piece, white with red polka dots, out of my bag, and went to change. Eric changed as well, into blue jeans (as seemed to be his trademark) and a loose cotton tee shirt. I pulled a long tee shirt and a pair of shorts over my suit, and we took the elevator up to the 36th floor together. Eric walked me to the pool entrance, made sure his security guy was in place, and left to take his appointment at the spa. A little, silly part of me was aware of how thrilled the masseuse would be, rubbing Eric's naked body.

I giggled, folded my clothes at the edge of the pool, and jumped in. The water was heated, an exquisite seventy five degrees or so. I swam laps for awhile, and then floated on my back with my eyes closed. For awhile, I leaned on the side wall, kicking my legs languidly, and stared at the lights glinting from the skyscrapers. There were windows on three sides of the room, which meant that the pool took up most of the floor. Impressive. I could see central park and the Hudson River, plus a large part of Upper Manhattan.

I heard the door shut and I turned around to see Eric walking along the edge of the pool. He'd stripped down to a pair of black board shorts. The rest of his clothes were in a small bundle under his arm and he placed them, plus two white fluffy towels, next to my clothes. I'd never taken the time to really look at Eric undressed before. I mean, I'd seen him that way, for a moment, when I'd woken up beside him after the wreck. But at the time, I was so shocked that I pretty much bolted without really seeing him. Eric Northman was really a beautiful man. I've said that before, but it's just true. Shirtless, it was even more obvious. He had clearly defined muscles, large shoulders and firm pectorals. His abdomen was taut and I could see the bulging veins in his forearms and hands. He had just a little bit of blond hair on his chest, and a trail of it extended from his navel beyond the waist of his shorts. They sat low on his waist, and I could see the definition of his hips. I wondered if he enjoyed casual sex. After all, it wasn't the sex part that worried me so much (or at least, I could deny that that was it). It was the relationship part that scared me. I couldn't let anyone in, and I couldn't share myself with them. But that didn't mean we couldn't have a good old romp in the sack. Right?

"Will you join me in the hot tub, Sookie?" Eric asked as I swam near him. He'd dipped his long legs in the water, but for whatever reason, he remained sitting on the edge of the pool. I shrugged my shoulders, and Eric stuck a hand out to pull me up out of the water. I gave him a smirk and took the steps. The hot tub was elevated above the pool and from it you had a panoramic view of the city. It was really quite beautiful and I basked in it for awhile. Eric sat across from me and I pulled my legs up against my chest. I leaned my chin on my knees and let one of the jets caress my back.

"How old are you, Sookie? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?" Eric asked. I don't know if he expected me to answer, but boy, he was right on the money. I was just barely twenty-six years old. Maybe he'd caught a look at my driver's license. "I am over a thousand now."

I gasped. Wow. That's…well shit, that's really old. I must have had eyes as big as saucers because Eric laughed. His whole body seemed to move with the sound, and it created a deep rumbling in his chest that I could hear, even at a distance.

"I'm sure you've heard that vampires don't enjoy talking about their lives before they were turned. It's true. We're a very secretive lot. I suppose it's because most of us can't remember everything about the lives we lived before, and many of us have no desire to remember those times. I've been a vampire for a very long time and while I remember parts of my life as a human, it is more like a dream to me than a former reality. I will tell you that I am Scandinavian. I don't know how much they teach children in the Louisiana public school system, but I lived during the time of the Vikings. Technically speaking, I am a Viking."

"Wow," I gasped. What else do you say to something like that? What are you supposed to say when you're faced with a thousand year old Viking vampire? I was probably staring at him, completely shocked. And then I realized something that seemed significant, important, even vital. I now knew more about Eric than I had ever known about the vampire I loved, the man I'd spent a year of my life in service to, a man I'd worshipped, a man I let hurt me again and again. In ten minutes, I'd learned more about Eric than I knew about Bill. That was something to say Wow about.

"You're right on the money," I said quietly. I mean, it was share time now. I didn't have anything as daunting as Eric did, but I could still share my short little life with him, at least in part. "I just turned twenty six a few months ago. I was born in Bon Temps, and I've lived there all my life. I have a brother, Jason. He's a few years older than me. He's the only family I have now that Gran's gone. She passed away around the time I broke up with…well, yeah. Our folks died when I was six. They were driving over this bridge, and there was a flood. It washed the car away. So, we grew up with my Gran pretty much. I know, it's not as fascinating as being a vampire or anything, but it suits me just fine."

We ended up talking in that hot tub until my skin got all wrinkled like a prune. I noticed that Eric's fingers never got that prune-look, and that was a surprise. We wrapped ourselves up in the towels he'd brought, and we went back down to our suite. I showered the chlorine off my skin and crawled back into my pajamas. I was out like a light, and I didn't have a single nightmare.


	19. Chapter 19

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 19_

_

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__Love takes hostages and gives them pain, gives someone the power to hurt you again and again. _

-James Morrison, "Love is Hard"

* * *

My second night in "The Big Apple," I actually got the chance to earn my paycheck. It sounds so silly doesn't it? In one of my favorite movies (of all time, as Amelia would say), _High Fidelity_, Jack Black's character says one of my favorite lines: "I never thought I'd say this, but can I go work now?" It always makes me giggle. Anyway, at about eight o'clock, I finished getting dressed in an attractive evening business suit. Eric knocked politely on my bedroom door. I grabbed my clutch and we left. The meeting was in the building, so we didn't have to go too far. I followed Eric through a series of hallways, like the switchbacks on a mountain road, and we finally arrived in an enormous banquet hall. There were a few tables and chairs on the outskirts of the room, but for the most part, it was standing room only.

Eric and I walked side by side, not touching, and he introduced me to a number of his business partners. I pulled down the walls of my psyche and listened intently while Eric talked about his interests and investments. I didn't follow any of it, but that wasn't my job. I found out that one of the men was gay, and had the hots for the vampire, and the other one was sleeping with Mr. Gay Businessman's wife. He was thinking about leaving early so they could go mess around in private before Mr. Gay Businessman retired for the evening. Interesting. When we wandered off to talk to other people, Eric pumped me for information. My findings made him laugh, and that made me laugh.

I was in good spirits, and I had a few spirits in me, when we walked back through the maze of hallways, and got in the elevator to ride up to the 30th floor. It was about eleven thirty or so and my tummy was grumbling. As soon as we got to the room, I ordered a hamburger from the overtly fancy room service menu. Eric ordered a bottle of very expensive synthetic blood. I figured it must have been the champagne of bloods, judging from the price per bottle. Good grief. Room service came quickly and I practically wolfed my food down. I washed my mouth out with one of those one-shot bottles of liquor from the $10 a bottle amenities bar. It was just one of those goofy nights that involved drinking and talking. I had enough in me that I could even be a little liberal with my thoughts. That's how the topic started, I'm sure. I hiccupped.

"So," I started. I was stretched out across the pinstriped damask sofa, my shoes kicked off. There was a hole in the toe of my pantyhose. "How do you feel about casual sex?"

"Pardon?" Eric blinked. He might have choked on his blood if he was sipping from it. That would've been gross so I was mighty glad his glass was sitting, untouched, on the coffee table between us. Eric was sitting in one of the matching chairs across from me. He had his feet up on the edge of the table.

"Casual sex," I said again. "See, I'm done with relationships. I don't like them. I don't want to have to trust anyone with so much of myself again, and I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's crap. Does that make sense? But see, I miss the sex part. Just the sex part, mind you. I don't miss any other part of the whole relationship deal. I don't want to cuddle or hug or get all kissy faced or anything. I just like the sex part." I realized I was ranting a little and I stopped.

"Well," Eric said, maybe delicately. "It isn't that I'm opposed to it specifically, but I don't want to pursue that… type of thing with you, Sookie."

"Why not?" It was my turn to blink and I did. Was I not pretty enough? Was I not sexy enough?

"For two reasons," he replied, holding up his fingers. "One: I don't think you actually want the thing that you say you want, and two: I want to have a relationship with you."

"Well, I'm done with relationships. I already said that."

"Yes, you certainly did."

"So that's out."

"Tell me what happened with Bill," Eric said. He took his feet down off the table.

"I already did."

"Sookie," Eric frowned. Okay, he had a point. I'd told him what happened in that I'd said it was sucky and I got out of it. I looked across the table at Eric. Then I downed the rest of the little bottle of tequila I'd been nursing. I was about two sheets to the wind, which means I was coherent but definitely past the point of inhibitions. If I was going to be honest, this was the time to do it.

"I've never told anyone this stuff before," I said quietly. I sat cross-legged on the sofa and leaned back against the arm. I didn't look at him. Instead, I stared out the window, at the dark spot that was the Hudson. I talked to it, and that made it so much easier.

"I met Bill at Merlotte's, and everything was really great when we started out. I really liked him, and he was sort of different. He reminded me a lot of Rhett Butler. And the best part was that I couldn't read him. I couldn't read his thoughts at all. I never dated before Bill. I mean, okay, I went on dates, but I'd never been in a relationship. You know? I mean, it's hard when you know what a guy's thinking, and most of it's dirty. But when you don't know, that makes it okay." I was talking a mile a minute, but Eric didn't seem to mind. He just sat there and listened to me. Every word I spoke made the next one easier.

"I don't even know how the bad stuff started happening. There's not a doubt in my mind that I let it happen. I didn't have to do those things. I could have stopped him. But I never did. I never just looked him in the eye and said no I don't want to. I don't know why. I don't know why I didn't just push him away. It isn't that he was stronger than me. I mean, he is, but that's not important. I don't have an excuse. He didn't beat me or even hit me. He yelled at me a lot. He told me he was disappointed in me. But he never hurt me, not like the girls you always hear about, you know? Never once did he lift a hand and break me. That's what makes it different."

I took a breath. I looked at Eric. His face was soft but otherwise blank. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. That made it easier too. He never asked what the things were that I'd done, and I wasn't going to tell him. Just knowing that I'd done them was enough for now. He could think about them on his own.

"We were together for longer than I've ever been with anyone. I gave him everything. He had all my time and I was always with him or thinking about him. I never wanted anything but to please him. That's all I ever wanted. I think that was my problem. That's how I let it happen. I let him take advantage of me, and I shouldn't have. I let it happen."

And then I was crying. Oh fuck, oh fuck. I reached for tissues and came up empty handed. I wiped my face on my arm. Eric pulled a box of tissues from the side table and handed them to me. I dried my eyes quickly. I was losing control. I couldn't lose control.

"I can't let go, you know? I realize how stupid that sounds but I just can't. I had no control when I was with him. And now, I just can't let go of it. Everything has to be in my power. If it isn't, then I don't want to be doing it or feeling it or letting it out. I can't let anyone in. They'll try to control me, the same way he did. I just know if I stop holding on, it'll happen again. I'll let it happen again. I'll let them run my life and I just can't…"

I dried my eyes and took a deep breath. You can do this, Sookie. You're in control.

Eric got up off the chair and came around the table to sit on the cushion beside me. I still couldn't discern the look on his face. I saw him through my watery eyes, but whatever that look was, I couldn't figure it out. He moved closer to me and I froze, like a deer in headlights. He took one of my hands in his, the hand clutching the tissue. He looked right into my eyes and even though I desperately wanted to, I couldn't look away. I couldn't do anything but look back at him. My lower lip trembled.

"It wasn't your fault," he said. His voice was smooth and deep. I wanted to close my eyes and take it in like an elixir, but I kept looking at his eyes. I tried to listen to him, to hear what he had to say. I don't know if I was actually successful.

"You're wrong." I shook my head. I clenched my fists. It was my fault. I had to take responsibility for that. I put myself in that place. I let him in.

"Sookie," Eric frowned. He pulled me against his chest. Maybe it was the booze in me. Maybe it was the fact that I'd just said everything I'd been thinking for months out loud. Whatever it was, I let myself get pulled. I pressed my cheek against his chest. I tucked my head under his chin. His fingers ran through my hair. "He abused you. He manipulated you and took advantage of you. Do you hear me? It's not your fault."

He pulled me back a little and pressed his hand under my chin. He tilted my head up and I was looking into him again. His eyes were darker, but I still couldn't determine his mood.

"You'll never forget what he did to you," he said gently. He sounded so sympathetic, so knowledgeable. "But you have to let go. You have to stop holding people back, stop fighting everyone. You have to let someone into your life, or you'll never be whole again."

"I can't," I whispered. I realized I was shaking. The thought of letting someone in, it scared me to the core.

"You can," he murmured. His mouth pressed firmly against my forehead. I closed my eyes and he tucked me back into the wealth of space that was his chest cavity. "Let me in, Sookie. I won't let anyone hurt you."


	20. Chapter 20

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 20_

_

* * *

__Against my will I stand beside my own reflection. It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again. _– Linkin Park, "Crawling"

* * *

_Let me in, Sookie. I won't let anyone hurt you. _Oh sure. Right. Because I trust you to look out for me. I'm doing just fine on my own, okay? I don't need you or anyone to watch my back. I've done pretty well so far, haven't I? I haven't repeated the same patterns. I'm taking care of myself. I accepted responsibility for what I did, what I've done. I don't need any help from you.

I squirmed out of his grip and got up. If I kept sitting there, taking it, eventually I'd let my guard down. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't give in to the comfort. If I did, if I let him into my heart, I'd be fucked all over again. He'd have control. He'd be under my skin and I'd have to deal with that. I looked down at him, just once, just long enough to tell myself I was right. I walked to my room. I opened the door and shut it behind me.

And then I crumbled like a piece of paper.

There was so much he didn't know, so much I hadn't told him, so much that was sitting on my shoulders like cliffs of granite. If he knew those things, if I told him, he'd take back any offer to help me. He'd know I was sick, that I was a twisted bitch with no sense of morality. I would've thought, once, that vampires didn't care about that sort of thing. But I got the sense that Eric would care. He'd care that I'd let Bill do those things to me, and that, at least some of them, I'd liked. And the things I didn't like? Well, I'd done them anyway! I'd said no to him, what, once? Ever? That had to mean something. It meant that I'd let him do a long list of bad things to me. And I couldn't be close to anyone, holding onto that secret.

The worst part was that I wanted to tell him. I wanted to march right back into that living room and just scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to keep going and just spit out everything I'd ever let Bill do. I wanted him to…what… forgive me? Tell me I was disgusting? That I was a poor and pathetic excuse for a woman? No. I couldn't. I couldn't even look in the mirror and acknowledge those acts. How could I tell someone else?

Besides, he probably wouldn't even look me in the eye after that. He definitely wouldn't touch me. He wouldn't hold me. He'd take back everything he'd just promised me. It would be nice to hold onto the fantasy for a little while at least.

I slept through most of the day, even though I went to bed around one in the morning. So far, I wasn't doing any of the sight-seeing I had intended to do while in New York. On the other hand, this trip was turning into the world's most seasick-inducing emotional rollercoaster ever. I had a hangover when I woke up, so I shut the curtains and lay on top of the sheets until the maid cart came in. I let her strip the bed and remake it while I took a bath. The warm water and bubbles were soothing on my skin. I felt dry and greasy at the same time, like I hadn't bathed in days. I thought more about Eric. Let him in. Let him into my life and let go of the tight grip on reality. He made it sound so easy, like I could just… do it. Right. What the hell did he know about stuff like that? I mean sure, he was old, but something told me Eric Northman had never been in the sort of relationship I'd had with Bill. He didn't really strike me as the type.

If anything, he was an "on top" sort of guy. That scared me too.

I got out of the tub at last and pulled on the cozy terry cloth robe hanging on the back of the door. I wrapped a towel around my head so it would be dry when it came time to get dressed for the evening. I was walking back into the bedroom when there was a light knock on my door. Since the maid had already been through, I figured it had to be Eric.

"Come in," I called. The door opened. He nodded to me, gave me a little smile, eyed the way my robe covered up most of me but still showed off my figure. Well, he was clearly a man. He certainly had his priorities straightened out.

"We're attending a cocktail party in a few hours, Sookie. If you brought a little black dress, now is the time to pull it out. Can you be ready at seven?"

"Sure," I nodded. I'd only brought one decent dress for cocktail hour, but it was short and black.

Okay, so I'd expected him to say something else. Maybe why I'd gotten up randomly and pushed him off of me last night? How about if I'd thought about what he said? But no, there was nothing else. I sighed and turned on the radio. Ironically, an old Linkin Park some came oozing out of the speakers like some freaky omen. I stared at the radio for a full minute before I flicked it off. What the fuck? Was I in the Twilight Zone now and the radio was talking to me?

I dug into my closet and pulled out the designer dress I'd bought for just such an occasion. I'd picked it up on sale at the mall before the trip, and I had only tried it on the one time. It was a black sheath dress that draped across the neck. The seams were ruched a little, leaving crinkles in the light-weight jersey fabric just underneath the breast line and around the hips. It was short too, falling a few inches above my knees. I pulled a black satin strapless bra out of my drawer and a pair of seamless panties to match. I said a little prayer of thanks to myself for remembering to pack more than one pair of pantyhose.

I shimmied into the underwear and the dress and the pantyhose, then slipped my feet into a pair of high-heeled sandals with intertwined straps. The heels added about three inches to my stature, just enough to make me look taller without making me tip over or complain about my aching arches. I stared at my hair in the mirror. Should I leave it down or put it up. I gathered my hair up and held it behind my head. I turned to the left and then the right, trying to make a decision. Finally, I decided to leave it down. I was brushing it out when Eric knocked gently on the door.

"I'm almost ready," I said. He opened the door a bit and stuck his head in. All I could see of him was his handsome face, his hair pulled back into that intricate braid I'd admired before. He looked dashing.

"You look beautiful," he remarked with a smirking sort of smile.

"Oh," I blushed. "Thank you."

For the party, we had to leave the hotel and head down the street to the Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue. The Plaza was probably the most famous hotel in New York, but I heard from Eric that they didn't offer vampire-friendly accommodations. I imagined there were a lot of wealthy vampires out in the world, and probably a good deal of them lived in or visited New York, so it seemed pretty silly to me not to have vampire rooms. On the other hand, I hadn't known such a thing existed until I'd arrived at the Mandarin Oriental.

The cocktail party was hosted in the Champagne Bar, an ornate room with booth tables, a well-stocked bar, appetizers for the collection of human guests, expensive blood selections for vampires, and standing room for brief meetings. I took a glass of champagne and some cheese and crackers from the buffet table. Eric led me into the room where he joined a small group of vampires in conversation. I stood off to the side, munching on my cracker. Though there were humans around, and more coming, they seemed to be companions of vampires. Most of them were women, but I saw a few men mixed in. I let down the barrier of my thoughts to feel them out. Just about everyone in the room that I could read was thinking about sex. No surprise there, I guess.

I turned around and looked at the splayed doors of the entrance, watching as more guests came in. Our party, for which the bar had been reserved, filled up the room. Some groups took their conversations into the dimly lit booths that lined the walls, and a few others sat down at the bar to converse with the attractive male bartender. Most of them, though, stood and talked as Eric did. They all looked ridiculously casual, even in business suits and little black dresses. You'd never know, at least not at first, that you were in a room full of dead people that drink blood.

I caught a new strain of thought and turned around in a circle until I caught sight of the woman thinking. She was considering sex too, but she was thinking more about how she could please the vampire she was with, less about how he could please her. She was an attractive young woman with dark brown hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. Her lips were full and pouty, and they reminded me of those sketches of the Disney character, Pocahontas. Her little black dress was an off the shoulder number that emphasized her medium-sized breasts. The gown clung to her small figure and made her look positively beautiful.

I noticed she was clinging to the forearm of a vampire, a man taller than her but not too much taller. I swerved a little to get a better look at him, darting my eyes around Eric's front to peek between him and one of his associates. His brown hair fell over his forehead, clean and smooth, and his long sideburns were clipped neatly. His skin was pale, almost gray in tone, and I could tell that the glass of blood in his hands was the first thing he'd eaten in a few days. He had a day's worth of stubble on his sunken cheeks and strong chin. His pale lips were half-parted in mid-speech. He turned slowly toward me and I saw the slits of his blue eyes. They seemed to glow when he caught sight of me.

I shrank backward and ran into a vampire passing behind me. Eric snatched me out of his way and pulled me closer to him. He was turning back to his conversation when, I guess, he saw the look on my face. I didn't have a mirror, but I could tell you I was terrified and that can't be hidden well. I was already squirming out of Eric's loose grip on my wrist, backing away again. Bill had excused himself from whatever conversation he was having, and he was walking toward us, the woman on his arm skipping to keep up with his long strides. He was grinning, not in an evil way, but like he'd just run into old friends. It was creepier than if he'd been leering at me from a corner.

As soon as he stopped in front of Eric, I lost the will to move. I was stuck in glue, trapped in cement, impaled to the fucking ground. I couldn't move if I wanted to, and damned if I didn't want to run and never look back. Eric dropped my arm and it fell, flaccid, against my side. I was paralyzed with fear, anger, and distress. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I expected every single vamp in the room to stare at me like I'd just rung the dinner bell.

"Eric," Bill nodded. "Good to see you. I trust you're doing well." He never looked at Eric, but right at me. I tried not to quiver visibly.

"Sookie, how are you doing? It's been too long." He spoke as if we'd just been neighbors, maybe friends in the sack. I held my breath and tried not to cry. You're in control, Sookie. Don't let him in. I squeezed my fists until my knuckles went white. I was sure I'd broken the skin.

"So, how long have you been seeing Eric?" Bill asked. His face turned cold, but he continued to speak as if nothing were wrong. Okay. Enough. I'd had enough of that. Right there. Done with it.

"You don't get to talk to me," I said. I kept my voice slow and steady, as steady as I could manage. I was on the brink of so many things: crying like a stuck pig, screaming, kicking him in the balls, ripping out his throat, fainting, running from the room. I couldn't pick a decision so I just stood there and talked. I could remain calm. I could be dignified.

"You don't get to speak in my direction. You don't get to make assumptions. Guess what, Bill Compton? I haven't been with anyone since we broke up. I haven't slept with anyone. I haven't kissed anyone. I haven't said more than hello to Sam in almost two fucking years! I should never have let you into my life. I should never have let you…let you…" I faltered. I'd already fucked up. I'd already given him ammunition. He already knew more than I wanted him to know.

I swung, with every single ounce of strength. I threw up my fist and I swung as hard as I could. But you can't hit a vampire, no matter how fast you are, if he doesn't want to be hit. Bill grabbed my arm and twisted. I dropped to my knees and yelped, it hurt so bad. I was staring up at him, trembling, his hand still on my forearm, when the strangest thing happened. Eric stuck out his hand and thrust it around Bill's neck. He squeezed, and Bill's whole head went white.

"Drop her," Eric grunted, his voice oozing viciousness. His teeth were extended and his eyes were dark as coal. Bill let go of my arm. I tucked it against myself and got to my feet. I looked between the two men, and watched as Eric set Bill back down on the ground. He loosened his grip and finally let go.

I was losing it. I was losing whatever careful grip I had on my own reality. The tears were coming and I couldn't let Bill win. I couldn't let him see me cry. So I bolted. I walked from the room as steadily as I could. I still had the champagne glass in my hand and I didn't even realize it. I stood in the middle of the reception area and looked in every direction. I didn't have enough cash for a taxi and I knew they wouldn't take credit cards. I couldn't stop the tears now, and I couldn't stop shaking. The glass fell out of my fingers and smashed on the floor, splashing my leg with champagne. There were people staring at me now, broken glass around my feet and watery mascara lines on my face. I was falling apart right in front of their eyes and I couldn't make it stop.

I was living out my biggest fear, right now, right here in the fucking Plaza Hotel.

Eric came charging out of the bar. He scooped me up against his chest and walked with me out of the hotel. No one stopped us. No one said, hey you, you left broken glass on the floor. No one asked what was wrong or if I needed help. I didn't have to talk to a single soul. I curled against Eric's chest in the cab. He kept me on his lap and sheltered me. The sweet look on his face wasn't there. He wore a mask of anger, but I wasn't scared. I didn't have any room left in me to be scared of Eric. I was already scared of Bill, and of myself. I was scared of that moment in the middle of the reception area at the fucking Plaza Hotel. What else was there to be scared of, anyway? Nothing was worse that breaking down like a basket case in public.

He carried me up in the elevator. He shoved open the suite door and brought me into my bedroom. He arranged me on top of the creamy beige bedspread. I don't know what I was trying to prove, or what I was trying to accomplish. I just wanted to be okay. I wanted to show Bill I wasn't affected by him. I wanted to show myself that I was strong. I kneeled on the bed in my short black dress and I flung my arms around Eric's shoulders. I pulled him down and kissed him. It was the first kiss I'd had with anyone but Bill. Eric's mouth opened and I felt his tongue on mine. His lips were cool but warmer than Bill's. I didn't belabor the point. I kissed him harder. I felt his arms around my waist. I moved to unbutton his shirt. My arm was sore where Bill had grabbed me but I ignored the pain. I even ignored the trembling of my hands. I avoided everything until Eric pulled away.

"You don't have to prove yourself to me," he murmured. He looked down into my eyes and carefully pushed my hands away. I glanced down and I knew he was already well on his way to an erection. The rejection, or what felt like rejection to me, stung like a hundred angry yellow jackets.

I couldn't hold it together. I couldn't face my ex-boyfriend and cry in the middle of the most famous hotel in New York and be rejected by a very attractive thousand year old Viking all in the space of an hour. I just couldn't handle it. I ran from the room and into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and let the water run cold. I kicked off my shoes and threw myself under the stream, still clothed, still in my makeup, still in my damn pantyhose. I sank to the tiled floor and cried.


	21. Chapter 21

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 21_

I pushed a chunk of wet hair out of my eyes and looked at the floor. He was knocking. I could hear him. The door opened when he got tired of waiting for me to answer. Or maybe he was worried. Maybe he just wanted to make sure I hadn't drowned or that I wasn't using up the hot water supply for the entire 30th floor. Whatever the reason, Eric walked into the bathroom and shut off the shower faucet. He grabbed a towel off the rack and crouched down on the floor beside me. I'd finally stopped crying, but only because I'd run out of tears. I didn't look at him until he touched my cheek. He brushed his thumb through one of the rivers of mascara on my face. It probably smeared, but what did that matter now? I saw his black thumb out of the corner of my eye.

He didn't say anything, and I didn't either. It seemed like it was one of those times when communication wasn't really necessary. Eric helped me to my feet by taking my wet arms and pulling me up. I didn't have to put forth much effort. It was all him. Eric had already seen me at my worst. He'd seen me blow up at Bill, cry in public, cry in front of him, and hit on him rather unceremoniously. He'd seen me drunk, and he'd listened to about half of my life story. Okay, maybe it was closer to two-thirds. With all that weighing on my mind, I didn't care when the thousand year old Viking vampire unzipped my sopping wet dress and pulled it off of me. He left it on the floor. I squirmed and fucked around with my pantyhose until they finally rolled off.

Standing in my soaking wet black underwear ensemble, I looked in the mirror. Wow. I was a picture of gross and unattractive. My wet hair was tangled and limp. I looked like a wet mop. My face was streaked with makeup. My skin was pale, and I was cold. Eric stood behind me and wrapped the towel around my shoulders. I hugged the corners against my chest. My arm was still sore and I unfolded the towel to look at it. I had a hand-shaped bruise, black and blue, near the wrist. Great. That was just great.

Eric bent down and pressed his lips lightly against my bare shoulder. I looked at his reflection in the mirror. He kissed me again, the nape of my neck. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I didn't let go, because I can never let go, but I let it happen. I let him kiss me. He turned me around and looked down into my face. I tried to smile, but I didn't have the energy. He didn't seem to mind. His lips found mine, and I was kissing him again. It wasn't a hurried thing. I wasn't trying to prove myself. It was just a kiss. He was soft and lingering. His hand cupped my jaw. His fingers traced the frame of my face. When he pulled back, at last, I took a long, deep breath.

He took my hand and led me back into the bedroom. He took the towel from me and turned down the sheets. I watched him move, watched his back muscles flex, his shoulders twist. I looked at his white button down shirt. Still tucked into my towel, I continued where I had left off. I unbuttoned it the rest of the way, and this time he didn't stop me. We weren't rushing anymore and that made everything better. He shrugged the shift off and draped it over the desk chair. I admired the shape of him, though I'd seen it before. I'd never been this close to him and really enjoyed it. I touched his forearm, ran my fingertips through the light sprinkling of blond hairs. His skin was smooth and cool but warmer than I'd expected.

I let the towel slide down my shoulders, my arms, onto the floor. His eyes ran over me, took me in. He gazed at my breasts, my hips, my legs. I'm not one of the world's most slender girls, but I have my assets. I like my body for the most part. I wouldn't go changing it for anybody. Eric seemed to approve. He took my hand and helped me up into the bed. I crawled underneath the blankets and scooted over to make room for him. He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes and socks. He lay down beside me with his pants still on.

I leaned back on the pillows and looked up at him. He leaned on his elbow and looked down at me. A few wisps of hair fell over his forehead and brushed against his cheek. I reached up and tucked them behind his ear. His fingertips lightly brushed my shoulder, and we were kissing again. I'd never kissed like this before. It had always been rough and urgent, passionate and hard. The softness was new. It reminded me of movies with main characters that knew more than a little bit about women. I briefly thought of Daniel Craig as James Bond. He'd know how to do this sort of thing. Here I was, doing this sort of thing. I stroked the lukewarm skin of his shoulder.

His hand traced down my side and dipped underneath me. He nudged my chin with his and I opened my eyes. He didn't say a word, but I knew he was asking my permission. That was new. I inclined my head, just enough. He unhooked my bra with one quick movement. He pulled the uncomfortable thing away and smoothed his fingertips over the damp red lines on my skin. He kissed other spots on my face: the bridge of my nose, the apple of my cheek, my temple. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel.

His thumb brushed against my nipple and if it wasn't hard before, it certainly was now. I tried not to flashback to Bill hurting me there, squeezing and twisting them long past my point of pain tolerance. Too late. My eyes burst open again and darted across Eric's face. He didn't know what I was thinking. He couldn't possibly know. But he reacted to the look on my face, whatever it was. He made another brush over my lips with his. He readjusted himself on the bed, pressing his shoulder into the mound of pillows. One of his arms curved around my head and his fingers played with my hair. The other continued to roam down my body. He avoided my breasts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

He kissed my temple as soon as his hand found the edge of my panties. I lifted my eyes to his and found them a sea of deep blue. I nodded again, just slightly, and he smiled. He pushed them down to my knees and I wriggled my legs out of them. I tossed them on the floor with my toe. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the triangle of flesh between my thighs. I found my eyes closing again and I opened myself up. I could do this. I could really do it. His fingers pressed between my lips and touched the damp, hot flesh tucked between them. I flinched a little, more from surprise that anything else.

I reached for his free hand, my eyes still closed, and he took my palm into his. I wrapped all five of my fingers around his thumb and squeezed. He kissed my forehead. He stroked me, gently, along that sliver of warm skin. His fingers were limber and well-trained. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted and when. He went from flicking the nub of nerve clusters until my knees were shaking, to pushing a finger inside of me. I splayed my thighs and squirmed on the bed. I squeezed his hand so hard that I thought it would break off. He resumed kissing me, my neck and shoulders, my cheek and lips and jaw bone. Another finger slipped inside me and he continued to flick my clitoris with his thumbnail.

And then something switched over in my head and I was fighting it, like I'd been trained to fight it. I was holding back. He couldn't tell, or if he knew that something was up, he didn't let on. I let go of his hand. I dug my fingers into the bed. I moaned in agony. But I couldn't stop fighting it. Eric began stroking my face. My forehead was damp with beads of sweat. I could hear his deep voice somewhere in the back of my mind, penetrating the bubble of control I'd built up around myself.

"Let go, my lover," he murmured. He kissed my lips again, just softly, gently. But I couldn't let go. I couldn't. I clamped my legs shut around his hand. I started to tremble. I was panting, almost hyperventilating. Eric finally pulled his hands away. I could already feel the tears welling up, again, for the upteeth time that night. It was happening all over again. I was crying after…whatever that was. I heard the distinct sound of skin ripping and I lifted my wet eyes to see blood dripping from two small wounds in Eric's arm.

"You'll feel better," he said simply.

I couldn't feel worse. Well, that wasn't really true. I could feel worse and I had, but I agreed anyway. I didn't want to waste time speaking. I nodded a little and he pressed his arm to my mouth. I licked a little of the blood and swallowed. I didn't take more. It seemed to be enough for him. He licked the holes and they began to close. I looked up at him and reached down to stroke the bulge in his pants. He stopped me, pulled my arm up to his mouth, and kissed the inside of my wrist.

I nodded again, looking up at him, seeing his intent. He wanted to bite me. It seemed unusual that he wanted to bite me in such an unlikely place. If Bill wanted to take my blood, he'd take it from the neck, sometimes the inside of my thigh, but never from the little veins in my wrist. Eric looked at me, but he didn't bit down into my flesh.

"Talk to me," he said instead. "It's your decision."

"What?" I asked him, confused. What did he want me to do, hand him the keys to city hall? He pulled me carefully against him and though he still held my arm, he placed it carefully on my chest.

"You're used to having things taken from you without your permission. You're used to following his rules, not thinking for yourself. I want your blood in me, Sookie. When vampires take the blood of humans, they can get a sense of them, of their emotions. But I won't take that from you by force. If it's okay with you, tell me."

I stared at him in disbelief. I looked down at where he was tenderly holding my wrist. He'd let go if I asked him. He'd disengage. He'd wait for another chance to have me. He'd already tasted me before, when my head was bleeding, after the accident. I'd tasted him twice now. I found his eyes, glowing like blue diamonds. The voice I found was quiet. I wasn't used to this sort of thing and I felt awkward and, for some reason, disrespectful.

"You can taste me," I whispered.

"Thank you, my lover," Eric mumbled in reply. He took my wrist to his lips again and, as carefully as he could, bit down into my skin. I scrunched up my eyes and nose for a second. He stroked my hair and neck as he licked the blood from the wounds before the holes closed again.

Eric nestled back into the mattress and pulled me into the nook of his shoulder. His arm wrapped tightly around me, but not too tightly. I could have pulled back if I wanted to, but I didn't feel the need. I was okay in his company. I wasn't great, but I was okay. I leaned my cheek on his chest and I closed my eyes. The words fell out of me like river stones dropping into still water.

"I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He asked. He rubbed my shoulder with his thumb.

"I couldn't let go."

"It's okay," Eric smiled. He leaned forward to kiss the crown of my head. "You tried. I saw you try."

"Maybe it's just not meant to happen for me. Maybe I'm broken." I could deal with that. I could handle that.

"You're not broken, Sookie." Eric spoke into my hair. He left kisses on my forehead. "You're working exactly the way you were trained to work. All you need is reassurance that it's okay to be free of that. It's okay to loosen your grip."

"Easier said than done," I sighed.

"If you want to keep trying, we'll keep trying. You'll get there eventually. And if you want me, I'll be right there with you."


	22. Chapter 22

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 22_

I slept soundly that night, perhaps lulled to sleep by the drops of vampire blood rolling through my system, or maybe it was simply that he was there beside me. Whatever the reason, I woke up at ten thirty feeling refreshed and revitalized. I got out of bed and hopped into the shower, the same shower I'd sat in last night. That was okay though. It didn't seem to hold any bad memories at all. I dressed for the day in khakis and a pretty purple blouse. I wore my hair up in a makeshift bun, and I slapped on a little bit of makeup. I called Aaron from the room telephone and told him I was going out for the day, alone. He protested a bit, but I'd made up my mind. Sookie Stackhouse was going out on the town and she wasn't taking any prisoners along for the ride.

I had Carrie Bradshaw on my mind and I made a beeline along the edge of the park to Madison Avenue. I walked slowly, casually, enjoying the pretty March day. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky and that made the cool air seem a little warmer. I passed huge windows for small designer boutiques, most of them holding clothes and bags and shoes I couldn't afford in a million years. Heck, I'd feel like a trespasser even walking into one of those places. But at the end of the street with the cabs rolling by, I stared up at Barney's New York.

I've never been much of a shopper. I mean, I love clothes and shoes and bags as much as the next girl, but since I've never really been able to afford those sorts of things… Well, I guess I just never wanted to stare at what I couldn't have. I couldn't have these things now either, but that wasn't the point. At Barney's, in New York City, on an early spring day, I could at least pretend that I was one of the wealthy set. I could try on designer clothes with thousand dollar price tags, shoes that cost at least $250 for half the pair, and bags that cost more than I made in a year. I could pretend. And darnit, I was going to have fun doing it.

I walked in like I owned the place. If I was going to be wealthy, I was going to be confident but kind. I wasn't going to be snooty about the fact that I had gobs and gobs of cash. I decided, since I was making believe, that I was the trophy wife of a certain thousand year old Viking vampire. Eric had already proved he was wealthy. He didn't flaunt it, but the man knew how to live. So, I was going to know how to live too. I wasn't going to flaunt it. Heck, I was dressing down and everything. But I was going to show off the fact that I knew how to live, like any good trophy wife should.

I giggled. Oh, this was going to be a blast. The only bonus would've been coming here with Amelia.

I went to try on clothes first. I admit it's hard to find stuff that fits when you have a body like mine. I was blessed, maybe too blessed, in the bosom department, and I have wide hips to boot! I pulled a knitted shrug off a hanger, a white camisole, and a pair of boot cut Seven jeans. I handed the selections to an associate, and then I went to look for more stuff. I found a beautiful summer dress with a chevron print, a gorgeous printed silk dress that looked like it had popped out of the 1960s, and either a long sweater or a very short knitted dress made out of cashmere. I handed those finds to my dressing room. I wandered around in a daze of beautiful clothing, picking up an asymmetrical one-shoulder dress in vivid blue, a pretty striped toile 1950s summer dress, and a 1940s inspired scarf dress in a lovely shade of gray.

As I tried on the clothes, I looked down at the price tags and almost fainted. The most expensive item I'd picked up was the gray scarf dress, priced at a whopping $1865! I danced around in front of the mirror in it, but it just didn't suit me. I looked good in the toile dress ($1445!) and the attendant offered to take a Polaroid of me so I could make an informed decision. I nodded (trying not to squeak with glee) and posed while she took the photo. The one shoulder dress made me look weird (and it was less than $500 so that meant it had to be "cheap"), but the weird long sweater/short dress was very pretty. I glanced at the price tag. Oh gosh, $1100 for a sweater! I mean sure, it was cashmere, but those bunnies had to be pampered on hand and foot right? Right? The attendant took another picture. The pretty 1960s dress also looked divine. If I put up my hair just so, I could totally channel my mother. The attendant took another photo and I did a little puckered up pose for the camera. Then I carefully took it off because it cost $1125 and I didn't want to hurt it. The chevron dress made me look fat (sadly), but I liked the Stella McCartney shrug ($975 for a sweater that only covered me half way). It was organic, and I knew that was good. Besides, I'd actually heard of Stella. Yay! Score one for me!

As soon as I left the dress department, I went to shoes. I love shoes. What sensible girl doesn't love a great pair of shoes that look gorgeous and hurt her feet? I mean, come on! I hunted down the shoe attendant and asked him to bring the Polaroid camera out. Then I went hunting around the department picking up every pretty shoe I could find.

I handed over about ten pairs of shoes to the attendant and he came back about fifteen minutes later with boxes piled up in his arms. He set them down and sat on one of those cute stools that shoe folks sit on. He remarked on how pretty my feet were (I try!) and then helped me put on each shoe. The first was a Fendi sandal with silver medallions on it. The heel was about four inches high and I couldn't walk, even with only one on! But boy, they were pretty. The Prada python skin sandal didn't have a spike hell but it was about five inches tall. Even though I couldn't move more than an inch without falling, I had the shoe guy (Evan) take a Polaroid anyway. The Prada slingbacks which had a wingtip design in front and a wedge heel were even more beautiful. They were also about $700 but hey, I'm a trophy wife! More pictures. Evan giggled like a school girl. Aaron would have liked him immediately.

Honoring Carrie Bradshaw (since she inspired my trip), I tried on three pairs of Manolo Blahniks. The first was an intricately woven sandal with little pyramid studs on the straps. It deserved a photo. The second pair was a white peep toe shoe with chiffon pleating on the heel and the strap. They were really cute and I wanted to take them home immediately! Picture! And the last pair, oh the last pair. I'd jumped on them immediately as soon as I saw them. They were the first pair of shoes Carrie put in her brand new penthouse closet. They were blue satin with a rhinestone square on the toe. I think my eyes glazed over when I put them on. It was like I was wearing a celebrity icon!

I spent about three hours in Barney's and then stopped for lunch at their in-store restaurant, Fred's. I had the world's most overpriced shrimp salad and it was absolutely delicious. Thank God for business trips and expense accounts. I'd managed to avoid buying a single thing for myself in Barney's, but I couldn't leave without spending a bit of money. After all, I had the free Polaroids to prove that I'd been there! I'd decided to put them up on the mirror in my bathroom to remind myself that I had been fancy for a day. After lunch, I walked back down Madison Avenue toward the park. I bought, wrote, and mailed a postcard to Amelia, and I got a little Statue of Liberty figurine for Sam.

I spent another two hours at the Central Park Zoo, wandering around in front of the exhibits, snapping pictures of the animals with a little disposable camera. I checked my watch once to see that it was already getting late, approaching five o'clock. I admired Gus, the Polar Bear, a second time, and strolled down the dirt path toward the Mandarin Oriental. What did Eric have planned for us this evening? Would there be another meeting, a get together? I didn't think about Bill or running into him, but it was still lingering in the back of my mind. If he was here in New York, attending this conference thing, then he was sure to pop up again. I shrugged and let the thought go. If I put it out of my mind then it wouldn't bother me. The plan worked like a charm.

I got to our room just as the sunset dissipated and the sky darkened. I rode the elevator up thirty floors and popped my keycard into the slot on the suite door. Eric was already awake, his cellular phone pressed to his ear. He looked up at me when I walked in, put up a finger, gave me a smile, and went back to his call. To give him his privacy, I went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. I couldn't get dressed again until he told me what we were up to, so I spread out my photos on the bedspread and laid down to look at them. I swung my bare legs back and forth in the air, admiring how pretty all those fancy clothes looked, on me no less! Eric tapped lightly on the door after a few minutes and I turned over on my side to smile at him.

"What's all that?" He smirked, cocking one eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," I blushed, gathering up the photos into a short stack.

"It's not nothing," Eric shook his head slightly as he walked over. He took one of the photos from the pile, the pretty toile summer dress. "Ah, you went shopping."

"Window shopping!" I squeaked in mock protest. "Well, I tried stuff on, but I didn't buy anything. Guess how much that dress costs."

"I have no idea," Eric shook his head. He continued to admire the photo.

"Almost $1500!"

"Impressive," Eric nodded. He handed me the photo and sat down on the bed beside me.

"There's a briefing this evening, but we won't be in attendance. Instead, I'd like to take you out."

"Take me…?" I paused and looked at him. He wanted to take me out? What, like on a date?

"Yes. I have a whole evening planned. Aaron is on the phone now, making reservations. I suggest wearing pants, jeans if you brought them." He winked at me. He was up to mischief. I don't know how I knew that, but I just got that feeling from him. He was up to something.

I dug into my closet and pulled out a pair of nice jeans without scuffs or holes. They sat low on my waist, so I hoped that whatever he had planned didn't involve me bending over. I put on a black v-neck knit sweater over top, and I left my hair up and out of the way. I touched up my makeup, slid into a pair of black flats, and appeared in the living room. Men dress faster than women, so I wasn't surprised to see Eric ready to go. He'd worn those same black jeans I'd admired on his muscular figure before, jeans that were snug in all the right places. He'd dressed up a little with a white undershirt and a blue button-up collared shirt over top. The stubble on his chin seemed to match the casual attire. He offered me his arm and I took it just as the phone in his pocket buzzed. He nodded at me like an alarm had sounded and we were on our way.

The park was beautiful, even as nighttime set in. There were little lights along the footpaths and the boathouse on the lake was lit up with lanterns. I watched a gondola sail past with a couple snuggling under a blanket. Eric led me by the hand to the boathouse and opened the door for me. At seven thirty, the place was buzzing with guests. Still, we somehow appeared to be next in line, ahead of several other couples waiting to be seated. Aaron was talented, very talented. I would have to remember to tell him so. We sat down at a table right in front of the windows that looked out over the lake. Eric turned down a menu, of course.

"Isn't it strange, watching me eat?" I asked him after I'd made a decision and folded my menu.

"I haven't eaten human food in a thousand years, Sookie. It isn't strange. It's just how things are."

"Well, okay, but I still feel a little awkward." I frowned as I broke a piece of bread and buttered one half.

I ordered the chicken and a glass of Chardonnay. Eric had a half glass of blood and explained that he was so old now that he rarely needed to consume blood for nourishment. He mostly ate in social circumstances, or if he was with intimate company.

"That means you," he grinned. "I have not been with another woman since we met."

"But when we met, I was still… I was preoccupied."

"Yes, I remember," Eric nodded thoughtfully. He sipped blood from his glass and it made his lips and cheeks fill with rosy color.

"I don't understand why you're so kind to me," I murmured. I took another sip of wine and pushed the food around on my plate.

"Well, frankly, I don't quite understand it myself." Eric mused. "I have not shown such preference for a human in a long time, and the last one that meant anything to me? Well, she was primarily a blood donor."

"A what?" I blinked. I mean, I got the gist of it, but since he was being honest, I wanted all the details I could get.

"We had intercourse, and I fed from her. She did not feed from me. I do not usually feed humans. Few vampires do."

"So, you don't know why you're being kind to me?" I was a little confused now.

"I know that I want to, Sookie. I know that I want to be kind to you, even generous. More importantly, to me anyway, I want to take care of you. I want to shelter you from the bad things in your life, and I want to heal what cannot be undone. There are other things I want from you of course, things that go along with any relationship between two intimate people." He meant sex. I didn't mind that part. "But primarily, I want to keep you safe."

Food for thought. When the waitress came around, I ordered the sautéed plums in red wine. I finished my meal in silence, glancing up at Eric occasionally or staring out at the lake. The dark color of his eyes suggested he was as lost in his own thoughts as I was. Or maybe he just couldn't think of anything else to say.

The mood changed when we left the restaurant and crossed a portion of the park. I could hear giggling and the lilting sounds of pop music. I looked up at Eric and his eyes were full of laughter. He seemed to drop whatever he was thinking about and we ran down a short slope to come upon the ice skating rink. The season was coming to a close with only one month of real winter weather left. It occurred to me that winter sports were probably Eric's forte, being a Viking and all. They must have had some form of ice skating, even hundreds of years ago. Eric rented skates and I sat down on the bench to put mine on. I'd had to buy a pair of socks from the skate rental, but Eric didn't seem too bothered by it. I made sure my boots were nice and tight, and then I hobbled over to the edge of the rink.

Eric came up behind me and with a great laugh, he pushed me onto the ice. I screamed, more surprised than shocked or scared. I went sailing out past a dozen people and kept my knees straight so I wouldn't fall over. I should point out that I've only been ice skating a handful of times. There's a rink in Shreveport every other year, but Gran only took me a few times because Jason always managed to get hurt in some way. Once, he got his hand skated over by a bully. He almost lost a finger and Gran just about fainted. Another time, he got a concussion when he ran full speed into the wall. Me? I usually left the rink with bruises on my knees or on my butt, but nothing major.

Eric twirled me around the rink at least five times before disaster struck. We were having a ball. The Viking was skating backwards, holding onto my hands and pulling me along. I didn't even see the little boy come up behind him. Not until it was too late to do much about it. I pointed and yelled. Eric dodged. I lost my grip on his hands and I went flying off toward the middle of the rink. I wobbled out of the way to avoid one of those practicing figure skaters, overshot, lost my balance, and fell on my butt. Whack. I watched Eric go spinning off too. He also came down on his backside, the little kid on his knee. I burst into giggles. Oh so what about the big purple bruise that would surely be on my ass the next day? Eric laughed and laughed, and the little kid on his knee forgot about how shocked he was and laughed too. It was one of those perfect moments, one of those things you remember about really great vacations. I could splice this moment in and edit out the bad things. I could do it if I tried.

We left the rink and Eric flagged down a passing horse-drawn carriage. They're all over the park, especially at night. I climbed into the carriage and Eric directed the driver to our hotel. He sat down and pulled the tartan blanket the lined the seat over my lap.

"How's your butt?" He grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Sore," I smirked. "How's yours?"

"I heal fairly quickly." Eric chuckled, giving me a sly "I'm better than you" smile.

"Cheater," I mock-pouted. I stuck out my tongue at him, and suddenly he was kissing me. It was a good kiss, and when it ended, my cheeks were hot from blushing.

His arm draped over my shoulders and we rode the rest of the way in silence. It was a calm sort of quiet, an easy thing that just happened. I nestled my cheek against his shoulder and he dipped his chin into my hair. For the first time, I realized I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe what he said and I wanted that to be enough for me. I took his cool hand in mind and looked down into his open palm. I wanted to let go of everything I'd been holding onto and just be. The question was, could I do it?


	23. Chapter 23

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 23_

I needed to think, on my own, away from the hotel. The next day, after sleeping until noon, I took the subway to Battery Park. I walked through the gardens of dormant plants and brittle branches to the promenade. I leaned over the railing and stared across the harbor at the Statue of Liberty. The afternoon sun reflected on the gray water. I watched the choppy waves flicker with reflected light. It occurred to me that even though I loved nighttime, I would miss the day if I somehow became a vampire. I'd miss picnics in the afternoon, tanning in my chaise on the lawn, swimming in the community pool.

A breeze swept up off the water and whipped my ponytail against my neck. I stared past the statue, past the harbor, past all of the sights and sounds of New York. I looked out so far that I was bouncing back to myself. Twenty-six years, I'd lived in Bon Temps, Louisiana. I'd had a fairly original life. From my first memory, I'd been able to read people's thoughts. That's a strange ability to grow up with. I was never a comic book fan, but Jason read them when we were small. He liked this one Marvel series, X-Men. I saw the movie a few years back, and I could completely relate. Here was this group of unusual people that had really unusual lives. This one heroine, a young girl named Marie, couldn't touch people. She wanted to be intimate with someone, just hug them or kiss them, but her ability kept her locked up and closed off from the world. I knew all about what that was like.

My parents couldn't really explain my telepathy. I read their thoughts. I usually commented on them, because I was just a kid and I didn't understand. They'd try to come up with explanations or just ignore it all together. I lost them when I was still trying to make sense of it all, and that didn't make things easier. Gran seemed pretty okay with the whole thought-reading thing, but I never read her. Jason is iffy about it. He uses my ability to his advantage when he can, and the rest of the time, he pretends that I'm normal. My brother's a butthead, but I love him.

I grew up in small town Louisiana, and because I couldn't really date anyone and I had trouble making friends because I could read their thoughts, I was fairly sheltered from the things that most people learn as they grow up. Sure, I had second hand knowledge. I heard all about dating and first time sex experiences and how sucky boys think girls are and how sucky girls think boys are. I heard about bad prom nights and good prom nights, marriages and divorces, giving birth, all that sort of thing. But I didn't know what it was really like until I met Bill.

I knew exactly why I let Bill into my life. I just didn't want to admit it. I wanted to feel something, and once I had a taste of it, I didn't want to lose it. I kept trying to make it work, long after it should have stopped. Gran had always raised me to be fairly independent, and yet I leaned on Bill like the ball attached to a chain. I let him make all the decisions and I just agreed to them. If we kept playing his way, we could keep playing. Bill wasn't the type of guy that wanted to play it any other way but his own. He couldn't be reasoned with and he refused to be shown an alternative route. But at the time, I didn't care. I wanted to hold on to that relationship because it was the only one I'd ever had.

Another breeze came up off the water and I inhaled the salty smell of the harbor. It wasn't just that I wanted to keep hold of something. I wanted to hold on and Bill didn't want to let go. Right then and there, on that sidewalk in front of the New York Harbor, I realized he'd taken advantage of me. I don't know what you're like. I don't know what you've seen in your life. I don't know who you are. But Sookie Stackhouse? She's an individual. She's a fighter and she's a survivor. She doesn't take shit from anyone. That made it hard. How can you admit someone took advantage of you, victimized you, abused you? How can you believe that you weren't in control? How do you settle that with yourself? Some part of me still couldn't admit it, couldn't reconcile it. I couldn't form the words but I knew what the words were. That time would come.

I was fighting a battle in my head. I knew the logic behind all the answers, but my heart refused to agree with them. I knew I showed all the signs, and I knew that Bill's actions were the exact replica of the ones you'd expect in a relationship gone very wrong. But the words on paper aren't very convincing. They're only profiles of a stereotypical person. He's fits the description but that doesn't make it real. I'm going through all the symptoms, but you can't diagnose me with the flu, feed me some antibiotics, and expect it to be alright. Whatever was wrong with me, whatever my problem was, it wasn't going to be fixed easily.

But for the first time, I was ready to try. I needed to let go. I couldn't go on holding onto the memories forever, letting them keep me bottled up and shoved into a corner. I couldn't keep myself closed off and plugged up. It required a lot of strength, and a lot of trust. I had to trust Eric, and more importantly, I had to trust myself. I had to know that I could hold onto myself when I needed to and let my grip loosen when the time came. It was all in my head, this struggle. No one was forcing me to keep up the shields. No one was telling me what to do anymore, expecting me to follow orders like an automaton. I was in control, and I had to make all the decisions.

Two years. Two years since I'd first seen Bill walk into Merlotte's, two years since I'd marveled at his confidence and his control. I'd spent a year of my life pinned to his side, but it was the longest year I'd ever lived. I spent it in a state of constant tension, worrying about what I might do wrong, how I might lose him. I don't think he ever intended to give me up. He had me right where he wanted me, afraid. I never would have left him if I'd stayed afraid. I spent another year trying to get over him, trying to find the self I'd lost. I didn't have much luck. I was so closed off from possibility, from chance, that there was no part of the original Sookie left at all.

I spent a year tucked away from harm, but the thing about harm is that it makes you who you are. I didn't like the person I'd become with Bill, but I really hated the person I was after I cast him from my life. I was too afraid to reach out to others, to ask for help. I was choking off reality and I couldn't see past the filter of my crazy emotional trauma. Everyone was out to get me. Everyone was trying to hurt me. I wasn't safe unless I was bottled up in the bubble of control that I spent every waking moment in. That was the person I'd become. All because I'd let Bill Compton into my life.

The thoughts seem easy enough on paper, but I spent most of the day out at Battery Park. I watched children scamper away from their parents and hide behind the trunks of trees. I watched the ferry tote visitors out to Ellis Island and drag them back again. I watched the tide rise and fall. At sunset, the gray harbor sparkled gold. I let the brisk wind roll up under my shirt and sweep my hair over my shoulder. I thought about Eric and his heartfelt desire to keep me safe.

I contemplated a song I'd heard on the radio. What is it about music that seems to catch you off guard? It's like all the musicians of the world know exactly what you're thinking. We've been through all this shit before. I shut my eyes and hummed the melody. I let the lyrics play on my lips. _The end of fear is where we begin, the moment we decided to let love in. _I didn't love Eric Northman, but I wanted to let him into my life anyway. I needed to live again. I needed to remember what living was like. It had been so long since I'd tried to feel. I couldn't let it go, not all at once. But as long as I knew it was possible, I could take a step in the right direction.

I waved my hand at the first taxi I saw. I crawled into the backseat and directed him to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. And because we were in New York, I told him to step on it.

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_A/N: Lyrics from "Let Love In" by the Goo Goo Dolls_


	24. Chapter 24

**It's About Power**

_Chapter 24_

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__You still don't get it. It's not about right. It's not about wrong. It's about power. _

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I sat down on the sofa and let the last rays of sunlight warm my skin. I listened to him rustling in the other room, waking after a long day in the coma-like sleep of the dead. I was both calm and excited. I'd already made the decision. I was ready to take the next step and there was no time to waste. It had to be now. I closed my eyes and opened them again. The view of the treetops was stunning. I could see the park, the skyscrapers, the fading light of day on the river. A censor in the room made the lights turn on as the sun set and darkness fell. Eric's door opened. He was wearing a snug black tee shirt and a pair of loose fitting flannel pajama pants. I lifted my eyes to him.

"Can we talk?" I asked him in a quiet voice. I knew what I had to do, what I needed to do, but I was still nervous. I was afraid. I knew he wanted to help me, to protect me, to keep me safe. That didn't make the fears fall away. It didn't make the process easier.

"Sure," Eric nodded. He came to the sofa and I took his hand. I led him into my bedroom and I curled up on top of the bedspread. He joined me. I don't know what it is about a bed, but things always seem so simple there. I knew I couldn't look at him while I spoke. I knew I couldn't face him. But lying in a big pile of pillows, I could stare at his hands and still feel close to him.

I took a deep breath. I let it out through my nostrils so it sounded like a sigh. I still had the salty smell of the harbor in my hair. It brought me back to the day I'd spent in the glowing March sun. I opened my mouth and licked my lips. Here it is, Sookie, the moment of truth. You'll feel better when it's over. I know its hard now, but you can do it. You have to do it.

"I didn't tell you everything. Some people might say that what I'm about to tell you is too much information, that they don't need to know the details. But the thing is, I need you to know the details. I need someone to know the details the way I know them. I can't even imagine letting go of all this baggage until it's all out there, on the table, in the open. So if it gets to be too much, I'm sorry in advance. If I freak you out, I apologize. These things I've done? I'm ashamed of them. I never talk about them and no one knows."

My hands shook, but it didn't matter. It was too late to stop now, and anyway, I wasn't giving myself the option.

"I'd never had sex before I met Bill, but I wasn't completely naïve. I knew that the things we were doing weren't conventional and I agreed to do them anyway. Sometimes I didn't agree and we still did them. I don't know what I want you to do with that information. I don't want you to think I was raped. I wasn't. Not once, not ever. To be raped, you have to say no. You have to be unconscious or unaware, or you have to fight back, or you have to say no. I never did. I never told him no. I never fought back and I was never unaware. I knew exactly what was happening to me and I let it happen. I don't want to take something away from women that are survivors of rape. They did something about it. I didn't do anything. I just let it happen. So I want to make that clear.

"The first time I was with him, I was on my knees. I was terrified. I didn't know what I was doing and I was scared of that thing in front of me. I didn't know the first thing about giving head and he didn't ask me. He didn't ask me to do it. He told me to do it. At the time, I was thrilled by that. Thinking about it now makes me want to cry, to suck on eight bars of soap to make the bad taste in my mouth go away. When I think about it now I want to vomit. But at the time? At the time, I wanted to show him that I was capable. I wanted to show him that I could do it. I wanted to please him. That was all I wanted in the world at that moment. I didn't get anything out of it, nothing physical. I was excited, but that was all.

"If I'd had more experience, I might have known that our relationship was uneven. He released, climaxed, whatever you want to call it, and I didn't. He told me not to enjoy myself, to hold back, with promises of pleasing me later. How do you hold back on personal enjoyment? At the time I didn't know how. Isn't it funny that now I could tell you exactly how to do it, how to keep a firm grip on yourself, how not to have an orgasm. I felt so guilty at the time. He told me not to climax and I did it anyway. He had a grip on me, even that early on, and I couldn't do anything about it. I was hooked on him like a fish on a line. I couldn't have escaped, not even then.

"I'm ashamed of a lot of things I did with him. Hell, I'm ashamed of everything I did with him. We did a lot of kinky things. He'd hit me with leather straps or tie my arms behind my back or to the bed posts. He'd wrap his hands around my throat and choke me until I saw spots. He'd cut me with knives and lick the blood from the wounds. He'd send me to work with phallic toys hidden inside me or with dirty words written on my skin. He'd call me names when I pleasured him. He'd tease me about loaning me out to his friends, either as a willing donor or a sex object. I liked some of those things. I don't know what it was about them. Maybe the excitement of having a dirty secret that no one knew about. Sometimes I got a huge adrenaline rush or it made the few climaxes I did experience more vivid. Thinking about them now just hurts. I don't know how many of those things I would still enjoy now, how many of them I liked because Bill liked them, how many of them are memories that I've twisted and turned around in my mind. The whole umbrella of experience makes me shiver with disgust.

"But the ones I remember most, the memories that keep me up at night or feed my nightmares, they're all things that we did and I didn't like. Usually, I would tell him that I was afraid or nervous or unsure. It didn't matter. It never mattered to him. He did those things anyway and I didn't get a say. It's great to not have a say when it's something you like. It's almost like the blame isn't on you. You can say he did it and I just happened to like it. You can revel in the lack of control. You can celebrate it. But when it's something you're forced to do and you hate it, I mean really hate it… that's different."

I shut my eyes because I knew any moment I was going to start crying. I could see myself on that bed, my fists gripping the quilt, my head turned off to one side. I was shaking. I was biting my lip and I was terrified. He told me I'd enjoy it, but I didn't. Not ever. Not once. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to beg him to stop.

"I don't know why I didn't tell him to stop. I don't know why I didn't crawl away and say no, please, don't do this anymore. I wanted to tell him. And at the same time, I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to know that I'd sacrifice my comfort for him. I'd be an object for him. I'd be something less than myself, something less than human. I couldn't point my finger at something and say yes, that right there, that's why I never spoke up. It isn't like that. It isn't cut and dry. We had anal sex, many times, and never once did I enjoy it. Never once did I get used to it the way he said I would. He didn't care. If he did care, I couldn't tell. We did that act when he wanted to do it. I didn't get to have a say.

"I don't know what I want you to do with all of this information. I'm ashamed of myself, for letting him do those things to me. I know that sounds silly. It even sounds silly to me. But I can't help thinking that I'm the one responsible. Maybe I'll stop thinking that way, eventually. But right now, it's my fault. I did it. I let it happen."

I let out a breath. I took in another one.

"I cry when I have sex. It didn't start out that way for me. It was something that developed over time. I didn't have sex until I was twenty five years old, but, since we're being honest, I'd pleasured myself before. I didn't cry doing that. But with Bill, I wept. They weren't tears of joy. Bill told me I was releasing tension, that I was letting go of pent up stress, and that my reaction was normal. You saw past that. It wasn't until you told me I was miserable that I came to realize it. It took a long time. But I can look back now and tell you that you were right. I was miserable. I was ashamed of what I'd done, what had happened. I was torturing myself. Now I associate every thought of sex with pain, crying, misery. I cry when I try to pleasure myself. I'd probably cry if we had sex right now. Hell. I definitely would.

"The worst part is the thing you saw the other night. He trained me to hold onto my orgasm, and now I can't let go of it. I don't know what I'm so afraid of. He can't punish me anymore. I guess I just don't want to be vulnerable. I don't want to put myself in danger. The punishments weren't as bad as his anger, his disappointment. It was that that drove me over the edge. Whenever I did get a chance, and they were limited, it was always way out of my control. I'd be tied up or strapped down. I'd be blindfolded or gagged. He'd take me well past the point of crying, screaming, begging, aching. And when it was over, I sank back to earth like a stone. It sounds great in theory, but it was scary. It was always followed up by those crying fits. Every time. So maybe now, I'm just too afraid of ending up there again, completely out of my comfort zone, completely removed from reality. I don't know."

I closed my eyes and opened them slowly. I was almost done.

"I know I'm not even close to healed yet. I don't know when I'll get there. It could be months from now. It could be years. I'm afraid it will never go away, that I'll never be able to walk into a room, see him, and not want to rip his guts out. I know I'm not free of his influence. I know he's still going to haunt me in my dreams, that I'll still wake up and think he's watching me. You sent him away and I knew he was gone and I still thought he was staring at me from across the lawn. I know I'll never forget. I don't want to forget. I don't want to make that mistake again. I don't want to let someone control my life the way he did, and if I forget, it'll happen again."

I sat up and looked into his face. His eyes were dark and thoughtful. His brow was furrowed. He lifted his hand to my cheek and I held it against my face with both hands. The tears in my eyes made my vision blurry. I wiped my eyes so I could see him clearly.

"But I want to let you in. Knowing everything you know now, everything that's shaped me, everything that's made me the fucked up Sookie Stackhouse I am today… please, tell me you still want me."

He swallowed up my face with both of his massive hands. His thumbs brushed through my windblown salty hair. I let the tears fall like rivers from my eyes and I didn't hold them back. There was no use holding back from Eric anymore. He knew everything there was to know. He had every secret, every thought. He seemed to be studying my face with those dark stormy eyes.

"I still want you, my lover," he whispered. His chest rumbled. He slipped his arm down to my waist and pulled me against him. I slid both of my arms around his neck and we kissed.

It was a soft kiss but a needy one. In that gesture, I needed to know that he accepted me, all of me. I needed to know that he was going to be there with me, that he would understand my reactions to the balls life was bound to throw at me. I needed to know he was going to guard me from the future and yet still allow me to be my own person. He was going to help mold me back into a person, and he wasn't going to let me suffer alone.

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_It's about power. Who's got it. Who knows how to use it. So tell me, who's got the power? _

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**The End. **

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**_Quotes in this chapter are from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode, "Lessons". _


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